The Devil's Fruit
by xxwhite-firexx
Summary: (Rewrite of TDF; Mafia!AU D-cest and ZoSan) It's been eleven years, and through an odd twist of fate, Ace finally reunites with his long lost brother. However, with threats of an old enemy family out for vengeance and conspiracies brewing from an anti-mafia unit, it becomes a struggle for the two to stay together. But, Ace will always protect Luffy. Even if it kills him to do so.
1. The Older Brother

_Author's Note: It's finally here, everyone. The official first full chapter of my rewrite of "The Devil's Fruit." I retained the title, but spruced up the summary to make it more exciting. But, I'll save all my comments for after this chapter. I'm pretty sure all of you were waiting for this day._

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. Eiichiro Oda does. I could only wish, hence fan fiction.

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><p><em>Chapter 1: Older Brother ~Portgas D. Ace~<em>

It was raining. It was raining so hard that I thought that the sky was crying, and it didn't look like it would stop anytime soon. The raindrops crashed on the empty concrete roads, causing deep rivers to flood through the gutters, and I shivered when the howling wind sent a cold chill that bit across my skin. As steady as we could, the two of us continued to tread forward.

It would have scared me to think of how this storm could blow me off my feet and carry me to who knows where. It would have scared me even more to think that the wind would steal him away from me. Except, I didn't show that I was scared. I wouldn't allow myself to be afraid. Someone had to be strong, and I had to be that one person.

I had to be strong—at least, for the sake of my little brother.

"Ace!" Puddles of murky water sloshed around under our bare feet as we ran, and Luffy was whining in discomfort as he tried to keep up with my pace. I silently wished we had an umbrella right now. Without looking, I could already tell that the thin worn-out piece of cloth—which somewhat passed as our shared blanket—was already soaking wet as it covered his head, and a newfound fear of Luffy getting sick began to well inside me.

I gripped his hand tighter, leading the way. "Hurry, Luffy!" Of course, it did nothing to ease him. I gave him a quick glance, immediately regretting it when I took note of his expression. Even under the rain, I could tell that he was ready to cry, and if I could only just stop to reassure him, I would. I knew that he wasn't used to running this much, but by now, those people must have realized that we were gone, and I was desperate.

We slipped from one corner to another, lost in the darkness with nothing to guide us except for the dim street lamps that blinked on occasion. Each alley practically looked the same to me—the same appearance, the same distance, the same darkness. It was like this sleeping city was a maze, and the two of us were caught in it. I didn't even know where I was going anymore, only running for the sake of just getting away as far as possible.

It wasn't one of my best ideas.

I was already close to losing my breath from fatigue—and Luffy was dangerously closer—as we raced towards the other end of another alley where a brighter lamppost was lit. I would have decided on my next direction to take, but then I saw him—a large bulky man who towered over almost anyone with his brawny muscles and long unruly hair. My heart nearly stopped because I recognized him, and I could tell that he recognized me, too. His beady eyes focused on us, and a toothy grin spread between his lips. Luffy and I immediately turned back to run.

I knew it. I knew that they'd try to find us, and they seemed to know where we were. They were coming closer and closer, and I could hear their voices shouting that we were somewhere here, that we needed to be found and that there was no escape for us. We needed to hide.

We stopped inside one alley and that was when Luffy finally collapsed. "A-Ace! No running!" He was already coughing and shivering, just as drenched as I was. The blanket he held had already been discarded somewhere along the way.

Without a word, I helped him up before searching frantically for a place to hide, but there was nothing but garbage cans and dumpsters that still waited to be emptied. Not even the rain could dissolve the putrid stench in the air. Then, I saw a wrinkled cardboard box, and just by looking at it, I could tell that it was large enough to fit the both of us. Quickly, we kneeled, and after placing this above our heads, the two of us sat, huddled together.

"Ace," Luffy whimpered while sniffling, "Luffy no see Ace."

I gave his hands a gentle squeeze. Luffy hated the dark.

"Luffy cold."

My mind returned to the lost blanket. Even if it were dry, would it be able to keep the both of us warm?

"Luffy want food."

The last time we ate was during dinner. It consisted of a stale piece of bread and some watered down soup. I just drank the cold bland liquid while Luffy nibbled on the bread.

He was crying now, and I covered his mouth to stifle the sobbing sounds. "Sssh, it's okay," I whispered, and even if I couldn't see him, I could picture those large glassy black eyes staring at me, "It's going to be okay." _Because I promised that I'd always protect you. _

We didn't speak, and his sobs were slowly starting to die down, yet he was shaking. He didn't have to tell me that he was still afraid. The air was cold, and the small space we shared was so tight, it was suffocating. If it weren't for the fear of getting caught, I would have lifted the box a bit to let in some air. Mentally, I was cursing our so-called "father" for selling us. If he didn't, we wouldn't be running for our lives. If he didn't, then I wouldn't have—

"Search the area," one voice directed, and I could hear the approaching sound of footsteps, "They should be here somewhere." There were dogs barking in the background, and it dawned on me just now—they brought the dogs. They'd be able to sniff us out. My mind began to race in all directions, stretching until it tore apart, and I could no longer think properly on what to do next. In the end, I just shut my eyes, hoping and praying as I held Luffy close. He did the same, and I could feel his tiny body trembling with fear—or was that me?

_Please don't find us_._ Please don't find us. They'll hurt us. Please don't find us. Please, please, please, please—_

A low growl ripped through the silence, and without warning, sharp teeth suddenly began gnashing and ripping off the cardboard material. Luffy began screaming, and when the box was lifted, I retreated backwards with Luffy, narrowly avoiding getting bitten by one of the leashed dogs.

"Thought you could run, eh?" One of them sneered at me, "You're not leaving us. You're too good to give away."

Luffy kept crying, holding me close and refusing to look at the men before us. My body urged to run, but before I could even get up, a strong pair of arms snatched my brother away from me.

"Will you _**shut up**_, brat?" The man who grabbed him gave a harsh slap to Luffy's face, but it only made him cry even harder. He kept calling out for me in between his sobs, and somehow, all the fear in my heart turned into anger that boiled inside me.

"Luffy!" I forgot about the dogs. I even forgot about the clubs and pipes they were armed with. I just stood up, trying to reach for him. "No! Give him back to me! _Don't hurt him_!"

But, I never did. As soon I came even close, something hard landed on my head and everything went black.

Then, my eyes snapped open, and I woke up, finding myself lying down on the carpet of my own bedroom.

_Another dream? _

Groaning, I sat up, rubbing the side of my head that fell smack on the floor. It ached, but the pain quickly managed to subside. I could feel the beads of sweat from the tips of my fingers.

Sometimes, I wished that I'd dream of happier days with him, but I never did, and maybe it was because I was too young to even remember those times. All I had were _those _memories—memories that I'd like to forget but couldn't. After all, even if they sickened me, they were my only connection to Luffy; the only shred of proof that Luffy did exist in my life.

I checked the digital alarm clock on my polished night table. It was 3:40 in the morning—too early to start the day. I noticed that there was a small piece of paper left on the table, and I picked this up before reading the scribbled note.

_If you're not awake by 10 PM, then I'll have Squado cook you an extra heavy breakfast tomorrow morning. With extra bacon. _

I smiled. Good old dependable Marco. Caring even if his poker face doesn't show it most of the time. I wasn't exactly a morning person, but with the promise of breakfast, I was already up and about. I kicked myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom because I definitely needed a shower.

After a quick bath, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror to get dressed. I tucked the white blouse under my black pants before buckling it with a belt and casually fixing the red and black striped tie around the collar. I still had the grey cardigan vest and the blazer that bore the Mugiwara High logo but I decided to put those on before I leave.

Haruta already took the liberty of taking care of my belongings. My school bag—designed like a large watermelon—was sitting on the chair behind my desk. Unzipping it, I saw how the textbooks and notebooks were carefully packed inside without being too crammed. On the table was a long list of items that she packed—mostly school supplies found inside my pencil case, ranging from the newly sharpened pencils to a refilled stapler—and I ran through the names one by one until I arrived at "Medical Certificate over Narcolepsy—Please Print." _Oh, right. _

Seriously. Who needs a planner? Haruta makes it a point to practically organize my life.

I placed my bag aside and took my seat before flipping open the monitor of my MacBook Pro. Then, I logged into my account and searched for a few messages down my inbox until I found Dr. Jango's email which had the file attached. After another click from the mouse, it began to download.

It wasn't the first time that I had to present a medical certificate. I've been diagnosed with narcolepsy ever since I was nine, and the first time it happened, I nearly drowned while swimming in the pool. Luckily for me, Vista was around to jump in and save me before the water completely filled my lungs.

After that particular incident, Dad made me see several doctors who ran brain scans plus some other tests, and the conclusions were more or less the same—the cause was mostly biological rather than psychological, and there was a long discussion regarding certain gene variations involved. In the end, Dad hired Dr. Jango who specialized in sleep disorders and hypnosis to help me cope with my narcolepsy. He just had to pay him double since during that time, Dr. Jango was also giving me trauma systems therapy for some unpleasant life experiences that I'd rather forget about.

The file was already printed, and I stared at the screen, contemplating on whether or not I should mention about my latest dream. It wasn't anything new in particular, and I've grown used to it over the years, but recently, my dreams keep on recurring—almost on a nightly basis. Sure, Dr. Jango already cleared me off as "fully stable" years ago, so I wasn't in desperate need of counseling, but honestly, I really felt like talking to someone who knew a lot about it. Finally decided on this, I clicked the reply button and began typing.

_Hey, Dr. Jango!_

_How are you? Thanks again for the medical certificate you sent. I just printed it now, and I'll be heading to school in a few hours. Hopefully, my teachers this year won't mind. I swear that "Captain Morgan" still has a personal vendetta on me since I'm the only student with the "brass balls" to sleep in his class. Bet he's still pissed when I accidentally knocked over his self-made mini statue of himself in his office when the narcolepsy hit. _

_Oh, and please don't get me started on Stuffy Buggy. It's getting really obvious that the guy's been trying to get me expelled since day one. Never works out, of course. Still can't understand the guy, but hey. I'm not the psychology expert here. _

_I'm guessing you're not too surprised that I'm messaging you at this hour. I just woke up from another narcolepsy attack, and well—I dreamt of my brother again. Same dream, really. Nothing different about it—at least, from what I can recall by memory—but for some reason, I'm starting to dream more and more lately, and it's always about the past. It doesn't scare me anymore, but it just bothers me. Do you think my dreams could actually mean something? I remember you telling me something about how dreams can be associated with daily experiences and that they can drop meaningful hints. So, I just had this sudden idea. _

_Okay, I know this sounds strange, but I'm really wondering—is it possible that my dreams could actually be some form of premonition? Even until now, I'm still searching for Luffy, and maybe—just maybe—my dreams are connecting me to him, telling me that he's still alive and somewhere out there, but I'm just looking at the wrong places. Totally crazy, and it's probably wishful thinking on my part, but I guess it would be nice to believe in something like that. Sometimes, I wonder if Luffy would even remember me. _

_Unless this is just the post-trauma effects kicking? Don't know about that. It's not like I'm getting any anxiety attacks or depressive episodes again. _

_So, Doc, what do you think of all of this? I know it's not the best time in the morning, but for some reason, I really felt the need to share this with someone who knows a lot about the subject. You don't have to respond ASAP. I know you're busy. _

_Oh, and don't worry about the meds. Izou and Haruta make sure that I never miss my usual dosage. At least, I'd fall asleep less during the day._

_Ace_

_P.S. I gave Marco your regards from the last email. He sends his, too. _

When I clicked send, I refreshed my inbox, searching for any new messages. There were none, and once again, I closed my mail with a feeling of dread.

Robin's gone to Barcelona to visit her sister since the beginning of spring break. I kept sending her messages, and even Zoro and Sanji were trying contact her, but she never responded. Not even her phone was operating when I tried directly calling her one time.

I wondered if I'd even see her later. She didn't even say if she'd be back for the first day of school.

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><p>Marco kept his promise of an extra heavy breakfast to make up for missing last night's dinner. Starving, I forked a piece of my eggs benedict and ate this along with a spoonful of baked pork and beans. I chewed on this quickly before picking on a mix of chopped fruits and berries from the side. All the flavors were dancing inside my mouth even after swallowing, and the only thought that occurred to me now was to eat practically everything in sight until I was satisfied. The problem I had now, though, was deciding between the golden brown stack of blueberry pancakes and the long, crispy strips of honey glazed bacon.<p>

"Pacing, Ace," but since Dad was around, that wasn't an option because after all, like he'd always say—"I didn't raise you to eat like a wolf."

"Yes, Dad," and I _slowly_ cut a piece of pancake and ate this before counting the number of times that I chewed.

Dad sat opposite to me, taking a sip of his morning tea. He had his glasses on while reading the newspaper, and I could tell that his head shake was more for me rather than whatever was happening in the business section today. "Really. You should follow your cousin Sanji's example."

"Dad. Uncle Zeff used to beat him and call him a 'Shitty Eggplant' until Sanji could 'properly' hold a tablespoon according to his standards," and in fact he still calls him a shitty eggplant, "Remember the time when we both ran away and created 'Ace's Kingdom' and 'Sanji's Kingdom' in the back garden field?"

He sniffed in disgust. "You two reeked so much that the smell would have given me a heart attack. If Whitney hadn't found you—and bless her, she's good at finding people—you two would have gotten lice over your heads."

I ended up shivering at the memory. The way she suddenly appeared at the entrance of our makeshift tents and crawled towards us with an all-too-cheerful "smile" on her face while whispering, "I found you!" was reminiscent of a psycho killer from those gory slasher movies.

"But, that's beside the point. I ought to send you to your Uncle Zeff for a reeducation if you don't slow down on your meals." Well, that shut me up. I drank a glass of water before taking another small bite.

It never came to me as a surprise how Dad was particular about table manners and customs. He was not only a traditionally raised English-Italian gentleman, but also, anyone could tell that he cared for order and tidiness from the dignified way he carried himself to the neat trim of his long white mustache. Then, there was the fact that Dad had a large number of associates and business partners who he'd meet and greet at social gatherings that he'd organize. Of course, I'd have to meet them, and that meant that I'd also have to show how much Dad raised me to be a "refined young man worthy to be Edward Newgate's successor." Something along those lines.

"I see that you slept before dinner last night," Dad said, "Fifth time in a row."

While he took another sip of his tea, I swallowed my food before answering, "Yeah, and I dreamt again."

"You've been dreaming more lately. Should we call Dr. Jango?"

"I don't think it's that serious, but either way, I emailed him just to share about those dreams."

"Very good," Dad nodded while breaking a piece of his muffin and spreading some marmalade on it, "We saved you some roast beef and potatoes from last night. You can bring that as your lunch later."

"Thanks, Dad." I grinned. He knew my favorites as much as Squado and the other chefs did, and just the very mention of the roast beef made me able to imagine the smell and taste of it. I had to regain my focus before asking, "By the way, do you have any business at Impel Down later?"

He didn't respond immediately. Dad ate his muffin while flipping the newspaper, but I could tell that he wasn't really reading. His eyes remained fixed on one section of the page with his eyebrows bridged together. "Nothing important in particular. Why?"

"I'm planning to go there later after dinnertime. Vista got a certain lead about Luffy, and the key person can only meet us there around that time."

Again, he took time to respond. He mused on his tea, probably weighing the risks and benefits of sending me there at a late hour in his mind. "Demalo Black has yet to owe me a debt of 150,000 yen," he finally said, "See if you can collect it. Vista also knows the address of that person, so it would be best if you bring him with you."

"That's all you need?"

"That's all I asked for."

"Nothing to do with whatever happened in, you know, Punk Haz—" It was a slip of the tongue, and I realized it was the wrong thing to say. I could see the dangerous flash in Dad's eyes.

"The debt collection is all that I will be asking from you tonight," he said this with a tone of finality. It would be pointless to press further.

"Sorry," I muttered weakly towards my half empty plate, "Just curious. That's all." Dad didn't say anything, but I could tell that he heard me and that he accepted the apology when he decided to proceed with the rest of breakfast time, talking about other things such as the "imbeciles" at the office and the yearly first day of school prep talk. It was like we never even talked about "it" at all.

Eventually, I finished up my food, headed back to my room to get my school stuff, placed on my vest and blazer and left for school. Dad said goodbye and wished me luck before I did. Of course, "it" was not brought up again.

"It" was bad. That much was already established. If someone as forward as Dad refused to talk about something, then it must be something top-secret and confidential, something dangerous, something that he didn't want me to stick my nose in.

Still, a part of me was bothered over what I labeled as "the Punk Hazard Incident." It wasn't because of what happened—that was the least of what I knew—but because of how Dad, Marco and everyone else avoided discussing the subject in front of me. Even Juzo—who would usually blab out anything upfront—wasn't answering any of my questions or dropping painfully obvious hints.

There was nothing to pretend because Dad wasn't just messing around. He made it clear that I was the only one who had to be kept in the dark, that I was the only one not allowed to know, and for good reason. Apparently, the less _I_ knew, the better.

And, what's worse? He probably would never tell me why.

~*~ Omake ~*~

Sanji: -inside "Sanji's Kingdom", looking through the window- Shitty old man! –sniffs- Shitty! Shitty! Shitty! Just because I can't hold a shitty spoon right!

Ace: -inside "Ace's Kingdom", looking through the window- It's okay, Sanji. We're gonna live here in our kingdoms where spoons, knives and forks can be banned, and we're gonna be hunter kings living on the wild!

Sanji: You're right! We're gonna be kings! I know I'm gonna be the King of Love, and I'm gonna marry a beautiful princess!

Ace: And, I'm gonna go on a quest to find the Holy Meat, and I'm gonna eat it!

Sanji: Umm… but… Ace… Why are you running away again?

Ace: Table manner lessons are scary!

Sanji: But, it can't be as bad as table manner lessons with the shitty old man.

Ace: No. It's even worse! –shivers- At least you won't die!

-beginning flashback-

_Whitney: Alright, Master Ace! Please enjoy your meal now! And, don't forget your table manners! _

_Ace: -chest straight and tied to a chair while several strings were tied to his hands, fingers, arms and the rest of his body- Umm… Umm… Where's the meat? There are so many veggies!_

_Whitney: But, veggies are good for you! You're so tiny that you need all those vitamins and minerals, yes? _

_Ace: O-Okay… But, ummm... Whitney, there's a big axe and a bunch of other sharp stuff above me, and they keep moving if I use my hands. I-I think they're gonna fall on me… _

_Whitney: I know. I put them there so you won't make any unnecessary movements while you eat! Uh-oh, Master Ace… Did you just pee on the chair? _

-end flashback-

Ace: … -shivers- I feel a presence…

Sanji: Eh?! A ghost? You can see ghosts?

Ace: No. –whimpers- It's even worse! I can feel something even worse!

Whitney: -giggling quietly while hiding behind the tent walls of Ace's kingdom-

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><p><em>Author's Note: This is actually a mash-up of both the first and second chapter of the original version. Well, when I compare this with the original first chapter, this seems more intense, but I also tried to keep it full of meaning. Also, we get subtle views of Ace's relationships with everyone in that mansion. Particularly with WhitebeardSir Edward._

Oh, and of course, we're already going straight to business. Mafia business, that is.

Tune in 2 weeks from now for the next chapter! Reviews are much appreciated, especially regarding quality comparisons between the original vs. this rewrite! :)


	2. The Younger Brother

**_Author's Note: _**

_Well, before we start this chapter, I just want to greet you a Merry Christmas (and an advance Happy New Year)! __I almost thought that I wouldn't be able to put up this chapter today due to all the festivities that are still ongoing at my place, but well, I luckily managed to find time in between, so here is my present to all of you. :) A revised chapter that pretty much covers a lot already on its own! Happy reading! _

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><p><em>Chapter 2: The Younger Brother ~Monkey D. Luffy<em>

I missed Dadan. I really, _really _missed Dadan. Every morning before school, my old caretaker would be the one to wake me up because alarm clocks weren't useful except for making annoying noises that I'd end up sleeping through anyway.

Okay, so if Dadan were here, she'd literally kick and drag me out of bed, and I'd definitely begin the day with a really bad backache—and if things got really bad, then an extra "fist of love" from Grandpa—but at least she'd make sure that I got to school on time! Good old Dadan—

"And, stupid alarm clock!" I huffed while angrily sliding my arms through my blouse sleeves. I was supposed to wake up around seven, but it was 7:35, and I was going to be so late if I didn't hurry.

_Would I even have time to eat my breakfast?_ I rummaged through my closet, tossing my clothes around in search of a pair of socks. No, I couldn't afford to miss breakfast! Who'd miss the most important meal of the day? This was that alarm clock's fault. _Stupid, stupid! _

Maybe I should tell Usopp to call me up every morning to wake me up. If he hadn't kept calling me to tell me where the meeting place was, then I'd probably be sleeping until noon. Besides eating and having fun, I really liked to sleep because that's when I'd dream of really nice things—and maybe that's why I didn't want to wake up sometimes.

"_Ace! Ace! You're finally home!" I ran to greet my brother who stood at the front entrance. My brother smiled, raising his hands up and tiptoeing so he could try to reach me. I laughed, scooping him up from the floor and spinning around as I hugged him. "I've been waiting and waiting all these years! I knew you'd come back!" _

_Poor Ace. He probably didn't eat a lot, so that's why he hasn't grown an inch taller, and he still looked like a five year old after all these years. I usually didn't like to share my food, but if it would help my big-but-not-so-big brother grow taller, then I could give him a little extra more to eat. _

_Would that make me a "big brother" then? I smiled even more because I really liked the idea. It would be so cool if it were my turn to be the one to take care of him! _

"_Luffy, what's with all that noise? Who's that at the door?" I could hear Grandpa from his favorite armchair at the living room as he was flipping through the channels. Usually, Grandpa would come to check and see who's at the door personally, but he must be so tired from all that government work that he keeps doing. I bet he'd be surprised to see who it was! _

_Beaming, I held Ace by his hand and ran with him all the way to the living room, so Grandpa could meet him. "Look, Grandpa! Look! Ace is home! He's back! I told you that he'd come back!" _

_Grandpa saw the both of us, and I found it so funny when his eyes went huge as he jumped up from his chair. He even looked like he was going to cry. "Ace! You're home!" Then, Grandpa ran up to him before slamming his fist into his head. Ace sniffed, rubbing his head, and I grinned, patting him on the shoulder. _

"_Don't worry!" I laughed, "That's the 'fist of love!' That shows how Grandpa cares for you! Right, Grandpa? Oh, and since Ace is back home with us, we should—"_

"_PARTY!" Someone yelled from the living room entrance. I turned to see who it was—and oh, look! It's Shanks! Did he just enter the house without ringing the bell again? Typical Shanks! He's so funny! _

"_Shanks!" I grinned, placing Ace over my shoulders and giving him a piggyback ride, "Meet my big-but-not-so-big brother, Ace!" _

_Ace giggled, waving at him, and Shanks smiled. Because he was so tall, he got to mess with Ace's hair the way he would usually ruffle mine. "Nice to meet you, kid! And, since you're here, I'm sure you'd want to party, don't you? Luffy! Call your friends over! I'm sure they'd want to meet him, too!" _

"_Right!" I said, and I could hear Ace squealing as he rode on my shoulders while I ran to the nearest phone. I felt so excited! Today, my friends would meet my brother, and I wasn't worried because I know they'd like him! I should also tell Dadan that we're going to have a party, so we could have a lot of food, too. Ace should eat more, and if I feed him a lot, then maybe he'd grow tall again! _

_I picked up the phone handle, quickly dialing Kidd's number, but when he answered the phone and I said hello, I couldn't hear Kidd. In fact, I thought I could hear another phone ringing. _

And, that's when I woke up to the sound of my cellphone ringtone, and it turned out that Usopp was calling for the sixth time after five missed calls and three messages.

While putting on my socks, I hopped on one foot to the studio's kitchen. Opening the fridge, I got my breakfast and placed it inside the microwave before setting the timer for one minute. Rice topped with umeboshi, salted broiled salmon, an omelette and a cup of miso soup in a microwaveable bentou box. It was really nice of Usopp's mom to drop by yesterday with Shanks and Uncle Yasopp so she could give me this. Auntie Banchina's a really great cook, and I always love the food that she makes. Usopp's really lucky to have a chef mom around!

While it was heating, I ran back to my room to grab my shoes, school vest and blazer before placing them on and grabbing my backpack. It looked ready to burst after I jammed my books and school supplies in, but I knew it could handle until I got my own locker. What's more important were the snacks that I added in there because I'd never know when I'd be hungry during class.

When I got back to the kitchen, I got a pair of utensils from one of the drawers and then picked up my food from the microwave. I poked and swirled my finger around the soup, finding it warm just the way I liked it. So, I drank this up, chewing on the bits of tofu and seaweed before eating the rest of my breakfast as fast as I could. After that, I checked my watch.

_7:45. _Fifteen minutes until the bell would ring, and Usopp was probably waiting for me now outside the school entrance. I literally tossed the bentou container and utensils into the sink before dashing for the kitchen exit.

Okay, I had breakfast. I took a shower last night, so it should be fine if I just washed my face. I brushed and flossed, and I was wearing the complete uniform. I'm pretty sure that I brought all my school stuff plus the keys to the studio in my bag—and even if I left it, this was Shanks' place, so he has an extra set of keys. So, what was this feeling of me forgetting something? No matter how much I tried to rack my brains, I couldn't remember what it was.

Oh, well. It's probably not important anyway.

"Bye, Grandpa!" I smiled, waving at Grandpa's picture which displayed itself on the hallway table, "Don't worry! You don't have to say anything! I'll stay out of trouble and be good on the first day of school! See you later!" I took care not to slam the door of the nice little studio before running down the hallway and taking the fire exit. Going down the stairs was much faster than taking the elevator, and it would mean more time for me to race to school on my bike.

A few years ago, Shanks took that photo of us, and I was glad that he did because it was one of my favorites. That time, Grandpa got a vacation from his government work, so he brought me to Hawaii. Shanks also went with us since his other boss who's Grandpa's friend, Mr. Rayleigh, gave him a vacation, too. So, we went to one of the really nice beaches, and I remember Grandpa wearing his yellow tropical shirt with those coconut tree patterns as his strong arms pulled me close for a hug. I had my swimming trunks and floaters on—because no matter how much I tried, I really didn't know how to swim well without them—and Shanks even leant me his favorite straw hat so I wouldn't get a heat stroke.

Looking at the picture—and seeing how the both of us smiled towards the camera—reminded me of how much I missed Grandpa, and I wished that he didn't have to go to France.

Because if he didn't, then he'd still be here with me, and he wouldn't have died from a heart attack.

"_Bye, Grandpa!" I knelt on the grass and waved for the last time, "I'm gonna miss you, Kidd, Drake, Bonney, Barty and everyone else, but it's okay. Grand Line City isn't too far away from East Blue, so I'll make sure to visit during the weekends when I'm not busy!" _

_It was hard not to sniff a bit, and I quickly rubbed my eyes because I didn't want to show Grandpa that I was going to cry. He'd probably laugh and say how I shouldn't cry because he raised me to be strong. He'd probably smack me with his fist of love or maybe he'd threaten to send me to military school if I didn't shape up. Maybe he'd even hug me until my bones felt like cracking. _

_Except, he wouldn't be able to do any of those because Grandpa wasn't here anymore. He was already gone, and the large gravestone in front of me had to remind me of that. _

_Monkey D. Garp  
>July 6, 1950 – February 24, 2009 <em>

_I felt something soft press against my cheek, and I looked up to see Shanks standing next to me, offering me a white handkerchief. For once, he didn't come up with a joke to lighten the mood. _

_I sniffed, shaking my head before smiling. "It's okay. Grandpa wouldn't want me to cry forever. He raised me to be strong man, you know? That's what he always told me." _

"_I'm guessing all those 'loving fists' pounded that into your head. I really should have charged Garp for child abuse, but then again, your Grandpa would have probably beaten up the police," Shanks sniggered, "He sure is a character. You're not the only one who misses him." _

_This is why I really love Shanks. He's always so funny, and he never fails to make me laugh when I'm sad like this. Even when it was just Dadan and I in the house, and when Grandpa was far away for some business trip, I never felt completely lonely because Shanks would come back from England, and he'd spend time with me, playing video games, watching movies and ordering pizza. _

_Oh, and Grandpa didn't know this, but I had my first drink with Shanks—and we had to beg Dadan to keep it a secret since we both got drunk that night, and I puked on the carpet. _

"_Luffy, take your time here, alright? I'll be waiting for you in the car." _

_I shook my head. "It's okay. We can leave already. I just wanted to say goodbye to Grandpa." _

"_Alright, then. Let's get the engine started," Shanks said, but before he even started towards the car, he paused and asked, "Luffy, how's your head doing? Do you still feel any pain?" _

"_Nope!" I smiled, pressing my fingers against the bandages wrapped around my forehead, "I feel fine already! The doctor even said that I'd be able to take it off in three days! He's really impressed that I healed up so fast!" _

_Shanks was quiet at first, but then he ended up ruffling my hair. "Just don't scare us like that again," he said with a smile, "You really gave me a heart attack when I got a call from Dadan, and she said that you got into an accident with your bike." _

"_It was raining really hard." _

"_Right, well, I'm confiscating that bike of yours until I'm convinced that you received an official biker's license." _

"_Aww, no fair, Shanks!" But, I knew he was kidding because he already transferred the bike to his studio in Grand Line City. Laughing, Shanks went ahead, but before I followed after him, I looked over my shoulder one more time and looked at the smaller gravestone beside Grandpa's._

_Monkey D. Ace  
>January 1, 1992 – February 9, 1998<em>

"_Ace!" I chuckled, "Wish me luck, okay?" Of course, the gravestone wouldn't talk, but it felt good to know that Grandpa was with Ace and that my big brother was somewhere, watching over me, too._

From the distance, I could hear a school bell ringing, and as I peddled closer, I could see people starting to run inside a couple of buildings which stood together in unison—tall, white and important-looking. This has to be Mugiwara High, right? The international high school? It said so in the map I have, and even if I haven't gone inside yet, I already knew that this had to be it! Just from the gates, I could tell that this school was way bigger than my old one, and if bigger meant more adventures, then there'd be loads of fun with different sorts of people to make friends with. Plus, a bigger cafeteria, too!

Suddenly, I thought of Shanks again, and how much he'd be laughing when I get to tell him all about my first day of school over dinner later.

"Luffy, seriously, I was about to call you! I thought you got lost or something!" Just as he promised, I found Usopp waiting for me in front of the school entrance. I got off my bike before we exchanged high fives.

"Nope!" I laughed while waving up a piece of paper, "This map you made for me really helped!" Definitely the quickest shortcut to school.

Usopp rubbed his really long nose, beaming. "Well, come on! Chain your bike over there with the rest, and let's head to class! Homeroom's going to start. By the way, guess what? We're classmates!"

"Really? Cool!" At least with Usopp around, I officially have one friend in class! "Let's sit next to each other!"

"Sure! Hopefully, our homeroom teacher doesn't have a seating arrangement. I found out who it is, and trust me, he's a dick. Come on, hurry up before we get on his bad side on the first day!" Even if we lived in two different cities and didn't get to see each other much until now, Usopp's really nice, funny, and he's just so cool.

Usopp and I've known each other since elementary, and that's because Shanks and Uncle Yasopp used to be in the same team led by Grandpa and stuff until Shanks got reassigned with Uncle Ben to England. One time, Uncle Yasopp came over the house to see Grandpa, and he brought Usopp along with him so that I could have someone to play with. I was glad that he did because the moment Usopp sat next to me and shared all these cool stories and funny jokes with me, I knew that we'd be great friends. Ever since that time, we'd always keep in touch through phone texts, email messages and online video games.

Actually, the last time I saw Usopp wasn't too long ago. When I was in the hospital because of my bike accident, Usopp visited me, and we spent hours, talking about tips and strategies over our new favorite online game, _Sogeking. _It was really great, hearing from Usopp since he's _really _good at first person shooter, and he's even won gaming tournaments already! We'd usually co-op since I could never beat him at stuff like Call of Duty or Modern Warfare.

Plus, it felt nice, knowing that Usopp wasn't sad or angry like the rest of my friends. When they found out that I woke up from my really short coma, they came to visit, and it was really painful to see Bonney crying and hugging me, telling me that "everything's going to be okay" while Drake and Apoo kept asking me all these questions.

Then, Kidd came in last, and out of everyone, he was the one who was _really _angry at me. Maybe if Drake, Apoo, Killer and weren't there to hold him back while Barty shielded me, then he might have knocked me back into another coma.

"_You know what I hate the most? I hate weaklings, so fucking hell—don't tell me that I'm best friends with one because the Luffy that I know, the only one who could kick my ass in a real fight, is a hell lot stronger than this! Son of a bitch, what the fuck were you doing? The fuck were you thinking? Crashing your bike and nearly getting—getting—goddammit! Hawkins, you bastard, why didn't you see this coming? Why the fuck didn't you say anything?" _

He kept screaming and getting mad at everyone in the room, and when he couldn't any more, he started blaming himself, and that's when I ended up crying. Kidd's my best friend for the longest time, and he's always so confident and strong, so seeing him like that was more painful than the accident itself.

I know that in the end, Ace never came back and that Grandpa's with him now. I know that I'm already on my own, and I've been really sad about it—but that doesn't mean that I hated to live, does it? Was it true what everyone thought? Did I really try to kill myself that night?

I couldn't even remember how I just decided to go riding on my bike late on that rainy night or how I ended up in one of the steepest roads in East Blue. It's just that the next time I woke up, I was already in the hospital after days of sleeping.

The second bell rang, and right on time, Usopp and I managed to enter the classroom and grab two seats near the back. People were already standing since the teacher whose hair was tied in a short ponytail was already here, and that's too bad because I really felt like dropping down on my seat. I felt so tired already after racing all the way here from Shanks' apartment without taking a break, and I was starting to feel hungry again.

"So, you two flashily managed to beat the bell, eh?" A voice snapped, and I could see the teacher glaring at the both of us. His face was red, but not as red as his funny round nose. "Don't let that be a habit! You two! There are still some seats in front! Take your seats there, so I can easily monitor your tardiness, and maybe it will encourage you to be more on time! The same goes for the rest of you!" I thought I could hear Usopp grumbling the words "Stuffy Buggy" before we both moved to the front.

Wow, Usopp's right. This guy's a dick. At least the chairs were next to each other, so Usopp and I could still be seatmates, and the both of us can try and survive the rest of the school year together.

"Alright, you lot! Sit down! In case you were deaf just now, the second bell rung, so let's get started on this quick!" The grumpy looking red-nosed teacher said, "I'm Mr. Buggy, and I'll be your homeroom and general science teacher for the rest of this school year—"

Sitting down, I yawned before opening my bag and pulling out a pack of animal graham crackers. Just the nice honey smell it released while I tore off the sleeve was enough to make my belly tingle, and I wondered what animals I was going get this time. Bonney told me over Skype the other day that she managed to find the rare penguin!

"And, before you all start daydreaming about some ridiculous high school romance—which you losers will soon realize isn't going to happen anytime soon because we'll all make sure you work your asses off the entire year—we'll go over some school rules that you might have forgotten over the break. I know that some of you here are kids of famous politicians, celebrities, filthy rich bastards and some of you are famous student athletes, but don't expect some special treat—YOU!"

I blinked, chewing on a monkey head. Mr. Buggy—or "Stuffy Buggy" like Usopp called him—was pointing his finger towards me.

"You there! Rule number one, no eating in class!" Wait, what? _No eating? _But, but— "And, no buts! Hand over the crackers! That's confiscated!"

I didn't want to. I mean, what if Stuffy Buggy's just trying to steal my penguin cracker? But, Usopp gave me a hard shoulder nudge, so I had no choice but to give it. Then, I sat on my seat again, feeling tired, hungry and just plain sad. I missed Fuusha Academy already.

Stuffy Buggy began reading all the school rules from a powerpoint. I tried to listen—I _really _did—but it got so boring that I began looking around for anything interesting. I'm guessing that my other classmates were bored, too, because they didn't look like they were paying attention. Beside me, Usopp brought out his notebook, and I could see him doodling something that looked really cool—a superhero? I peered closer, seeing that it was one with a mask, cape and the _kabuto_ staff weapon from _Sogeking_, and I wasn't surprised that it was drawn so well with all those shadings. Besides being a gamer, Usopp's a really great artist, too.

"Alright, role call! Stand up and say 'present' when I say your name!"

One by one, people were being called, and I kept shifting on my seat, waiting for my turn. Except, I never really liked waiting for stuff, so I just kept looking around again. People were mostly spacing out or just waiting to be called, except I saw a goggle wearing boy near Usopp's seat who was trading cards with a taller looking blonde guy. Some seats behind me, a group of girls were passing notes in secret while giggling. One of them—a blonde haired girl with short hair—noticed me, and she waved with a friendly smile. I smiled back and eagerly did the same.

I also noticed that there was this guy next to me who looked like he could drop anytime soon. His head leaned forward as he slouched, and his eyes must be feeling heavy because of his sleepy look. Hey, what if I wasn't the only one here? What if this guy had narcolepsy, too? A narcoleptic, just like—_oh crap. _

"Monkey D. Luffy!" How could I forget something _really _important?

"That's me! Oh, wait! Sorry! Present!" I can't believe that I forgot that I had narcolepsy!

Wait, that would mean that I forgot to bring my medical certificate that said I have narcolepsy, right?

And, that would mean that I _did _actually forget to take my medicines this morning, right?

And, that would mean that I'd fall asleep in the middle of class or some place later because my narcolepsy was just super bad, right?

"So, _you're _the new student? Says here in this list that you didn't take your middle school here. Figures," Stuffy Buggy snorted, "Well, get your goofy looking face up front and say something about yourself!"

Oh, well! I can always try and not fall asleep. It's just one day! I bet that I'd still be awake by sundown!

"Hi! I'm Monkey D. Luffy!" I smiled and waved when I stood in front, "I'm fourteen years old, and I used to live in East Blue City before moving here. I like meat and food and pirates and superheroes and video games and a bunch of other stuff, and—"

"Okay, that's enough! You can meet the rest of your classmates later! Any questions you'd want to ask before I continue?" Stuffy Buggy suddenly asked.

"Uhh, I guess," I glanced at him before pointing my finger towards him because I seriously had to ask, "How come your nose is so big and red like a clown's?"

No one spoke. No one at all. I looked at Usopp, wondering what's wrong when I noticed his whole face turning chalk white. It's like he saw some really scary ghost or something, and that's way different compared to Stuffy Buggy who was getting redder and redder and—wow, his face is getting purple! I should ask why his face is like a rainbow next!

"No more questions from you. You, by the way, are in my shit list. Effectively immediately," Stuffy Buggy barked, "And, stay out of trouble because I'm this close to sending you to detention on the first day!"

As I got back to my seat, I decided that this guy was evil. He has to be. He's probably some evil clown or something from those horror movies who secretly eats people and steals honey graham animal crackers from hungry students.

Again. I really missed Fuusha Academy.

* * *

><p>"You do realize that you just told Stuffy Buggy that he has a clown nose, right? He'll hate you forever."<p>

"But, it's true!" I chewed on the cheeseburger, "Plus, he never even answered my question!"

"Luffy, you're missing the point here."

"Never mind that, Usopp," Coby, the goggle wearing guy in class, said, "I think Luffy's really brave. I know I'd be scared if Stuffy Buggy called me up front. Your knees were shaking when he called your name, you know."

Usopp nearly dropped his chopsticks as he began to eat. "N-No, they weren't!"

"Sure, Usopp. Whatever you say," the blonde guy, Helmeppo, said in between his own meal, "But, now, we know that Luffy is officially the second person in the entire school who admitted it out loud."

Someone else asked him the same thing? I wonder if Stuffy Buggy gave him an answer. I finished up the rest of my burger before starting on the buffalo wings. "Really? Who's that?"

Helmeppo sniggered. "Asch Newgate. That guy could get away from almost anything with murder."

"Who?" I didn't get why, but this time, Usopp really did drop his chopsticks, and Coby looked at me with wide eyes and an open jaw.

"A-Are you kidding me?" Helmeppo was choking on his food, "You don't know who Asch Newgate is?"

"The son of Sir Edward Newgate?" Coby added.

"The son of who?"

Helmeppo arched an eyebrow. "Edward Newgate? You don't know the richest guy in the entire region of New Japan? Wait, scratch that. You don't know the guy who's just as rich as Bill Gates himself? This is legit news. It's right there in the latest Forbes List."

"Nope! But, he sounds important, so I'm guessing that I should know him. What about that Asch guy?" Coby and Helmeppo didn't speak, only staring at me, and I turned to Usopp, not knowing what to do next.

Usopp gave me a short pat on the shoulder, laughing a bit. "Sorry, guys, but let's just say that Luffy's not exactly into news affairs. He'd rather watch anime or food channels, right, Luffy?"

"Yeah," Helmeppo said, "Not judging, but still, don't you watch the news?"

I shook my head while swallowing the last of my cheeseburger. "My Grandpa said that I don't need to watch." To me, it was cool because Grandpa didn't tell me to watch boring old news just like how other parents would.

Before Coby or Helmeppo spoke again, someone else did. "Excuse us. Mind if we join you guys?"

All at once, we spun our heads to whoever spoke, and then I saw the same group of girls who sat with us in class. There were four of them, and they all wore the girl's version of the school uniform with white blouses over grey cardigan vests and black blazers, red ribbons instead of neckties and grey knee length skirts. They all carried their own lunch boxes. "Your table is the only good one left." The one who spoke first was a girl with brown eyes and long wavy hair pulled into a ponytail.

"Sure, Vivi," Coby said, "Ran out of seats?"

"The senior girls stole all the good seats, care of Conis, Aisa and Laki!" A girl with short hair dyed green groaned while taking her seat next to Coby, "And no. We're not sitting anywhere near Rob Lucci and his group. H-He's kind of scary and—"

"And, because Kalifa is an unbearable bitch," a girl with short ginger hair rolled her light brown eyes while taking her seat between Ponytail and Green, "She acts all prim and proper, but she has those guys to scare freshmen out of spite. Then, there are _three_ tables taken by the student council president, Doflamingo, and his lackeys. Why he's here when he has his own room, I don't know. Same goes for the student athletes! At least the disciplinary committee's sticking to their own room! _Seniors, _I swear."

"Usopp!" It was that friendly blonde girl again, and when she sat down next to him, I could see Usopp's face magically turn red like Stuffy Buggy's, except that it wasn't the grumpy type of red. "How're you? How was the break?"

"O-Oh, it was nice," Wow, Usopp really reminded me of a tomato, and I was officially craving for the margherita pasta that the cafeteria was also serving, "How was yours? Y-You went to Norway with your family, right? I-I'm sure you had fun. I could tell from the pictures—you know, the pictures you posted in Facebook which just came up in my newsfeed at random and all—"

"Hey, Usopp," I chewed on some of my mashed potatoes and rice with my buffalo wings, "Why's your face red like a tomato? Oh, and is she that Kaya person you keep telling me about? The one that you—"

"Luffy!" Usopp suddenly began laughing while slinging an arm around my shoulder, "You haven't met them yet! Luffy, meet Kaya! Kaya, meet Luffy! Oh, and this is Vivi, Camie and Nami! Guys, say hi!" Huh. Usopp didn't answer my question just like Stuffy Buggy! So, that's what happens when your face turns really red? You don't answer questions?

"Hey, new guy," the girl named Camie smiled, "Great job with Stuffy Buggy earlier. I couldn't laugh because I didn't want to get in trouble, but honestly, that was really funny!"

"Usopp," I could see Nami giving Usopp this really huge smile, "So, Luffy knows about Kaya already but not the rest of the us? I'm hurt."

"It's okay," Vivi giggled while opening her bentou to reveal an omelette topped over rice, "You know that Usopp and Kaya have been friends since forever."

That smile never left Nami. "Oh, like you and Kohza? Or are you really _just_ friends?"

"Speaking of Kohza, look, there he is!" Kaya pointed towards a certain direction, and we all looked towards this guy with sandy blonde hair and sunglasses who immediately turned red, too, and faced the other direction. "Vivi, I think he's checking you out."

"W-What? Is he? W-Wait, no, he isn't!" Does everyone turn red in this school? I should ask Usopp that later.

"Oh, come on, Vi," Nami rolled her eyes, "That guy has been checking you out since the fifth grade."

"Yeah, Vivi. They're right. He _is _checking you out. Trust me, I'm a guy, so I'd know these things," Usopp said while stealing glances at that Kohza guy who was reading something. Wow, so cool! He could read books upside down? How does he do that?

Helmeppo snorted. "Yeah, we all know who _you_ check out—" and he said that while narrowly dodging a hit from Usopp, "But, never mind that! Guess what? Luffy doesn't know who Asch is!"

When Helmeppo said that, suddenly, the girls stopped talking among themselves, and they all glanced towards me. I blinked, starting on my beef teppanyaki, but just as I was about to place some on my mouth, that's when all the girls surrounded me.

"You're kidding me, right? Oh my God, please tell me you're kidding!"

"Seriously? You don't know who Asch Newgate is?"

"Who _doesn't _know him?"

"Oh, that means you'll definitely get to see him since he studies here!"

Kaya chewed on a bit of her food which looked really delicious because she had roast beef and croquettes. "Don't worry, Luffy! If you ever bump into him, he's really easy to talk to. He's that nice! Definitely one of the friendlier upperclassmen."

"Plus, he's _cute_." Camie sighed while starting on her own lunch. She had a toothpick with her, and she poked on a ball of takoyaki before plopping it between her lips.

Vivi smiled with a shrug. "I guess he is. The freckles have a certain charm."

"Whatever, Vivi. We all know you'd rather have Kohza," Camie rolled her eyes, "But, I think I know who finds him cute. What do _you _think of him, Nami?"

Nami brought out her own lunch and started eating. "He's okay."

"Ooh," Camie giggled with Vivi and Kaya, "I think someone's a bit jealous of Nico Robin."

"Ugh. Asch Newgate. Damn, that's guy's unfair," Helmeppo grumbled. He and Coby were both eyeing their own plates. "Rich, popular, smart, good looking and a nice guy. He's completely _unfair._" They kept shoving their food around their plates without really eating. Maybe they're full? That's a lot of food they're wasting. I could finish it for them!

"Him and his cousin, Sanji," Coby added, "Everything you said about Asch _plus _mega talented. Night time sous chef in training in his dad's restaurant, soccer athlete, martial artist, popular with the girls—_he's _unfair. I heard he's going to be captain of both the soccer varsity and the culinary club this year."

I tilted my head. "Who's Sanji and Robin?"

"Oh, right," Helmeppo said, "You don't know them, too. Well, Sanji is Asch's best friend and cousin, and Robin is their friend who's seriously hot. Smartest girl in their year, too. I'm betting my money that she'll graduate valedictorian again. She already did during her middle school days."

"Okay, so Asch is this important guy who's the son of a _really_ important guy, and Sanji and Robin are Asch's friends, right, Coby? Oh, and Sanji's a chef, so that means he can cook really yummy food, right?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Are we talking about Sanji?" Camie squealed, "He's another cutie! Especially when he speaks in French!"

"I heard him once when he spoke to one of the French junior girls back in middle school!" Kaya giggled, "His voice is just so—wow, I could listen to him forever. I wonder if he can sing, too." Hey, Usopp's wasting food with Coby and Helmeppo, too! Oh, well. More food for me!

"Luffy." Nami was giving me this strange look—well, no, she was actually looking at my food. I pulled my tray closer in case she's like Bonney, and she'd try to steal my food. "I just noticed now—are you seriously going to finish all of that food?"

"Yeah, why?" I still had my baby back ribs, beef teppanyaki, some more buffalo wings, Salisbury steak, and half a plate of mashed potatoes over rice to finish! The plates here really small!

"He's not kidding," Usopp said before Nami could respond, "Luffy's got a black hole in his stomach."

"Really?" Nami arched an eyebrow, "He's pretty thin. Where does all that food go?"

"My stomach."

"_Right_. So, anyway, enough about us. You're from East Blue, right?" she smiled, "The beaches are really nice there! What made you decide to move, though? Tired of all the tourists and sea ports?"

"My Grandpa died."

The friendly smile on Nami's face fell when I said that. "O-Oh," she stammered, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I didn't really know. Condolences." I think everyone else heard what I said because all of a sudden, everyone stopped what they were doing. Usopp gulped, and the other girls were looking at me like how Grandpa's friends were looking at me during the funeral wakes.

"U-Um, are you staying with anyone in particular?" Coby asked, "Do you have any rela—"

"I live in my Grandpa's friend's studio, but he's not always around, plus it's really meant for one person, so he mostly stays in a hotel room to give me space. I think he'll be leaving for England soon." I think Coby wanted to say something else, but then Helmeppo nudged him on the shoulder.

Usopp shook his head. "Hey, guys, I don't think you should—"

"No, it's okay, Usopp." He looked at me, worried, and I just gave him a tiny grin to show him that I was really okay. I didn't want Usopp and my new friends to be worried about me just like everyone else.

"It's fine, Luffy," Nami raised her hands slightly, "We're really sorry that we brought it up, and you don't have to talk about it right now. If you want, it'll just be a secret among all of us. What's in this table stays in this table, right, everyone?"

"Right!" Camie nodded in agreement, "And, Luffy, don't be a stranger. If you ever feel like you want to talk about something, you can always come to us. We're all ears."

I felt my lips tug into a wider smile. "Does that make us all friends?"

"Definitely!" Vivi said while everyone else nodded in agreement.

I laughed as Usopp messed with my hair. "Told you that you'd love it here."

I couldn't believe it. I had this much friends on my first day of class? Now, I wouldn't have to feel alone, and I really have Usopp to thank! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be eating with all these nice people right now. Suddenly, the sun shone brighter from the outside windows, and maybe it was because of these feelings that I could feel the beat of my heart against my chest going one, two, three, four—hey, there was even an applause! People were standing up from their chairs all at once, cheering like how they would in live concerts as they looked towards the cafeteria entrance.

"Hey, why's everyone all clapping?" Taking a huge bite from my Salisbury steak, I stood on top of my chair while eating up the baby back ribs to see because everyone was blocking my way. Especially a couple of guys from one table who were waving their kendou sticks while screaming "_Senchou! Senchou!_" as loud as the applause itself.

"Looks like Zoro won another kendou tournament," I heard Nami say, "Wasn't there a national one held recently at Kyoto?"

"Yeah! I watched it on TV!" Camie said excitedly, trying to stand from her chair as well to get a better look, "And, of course he won! It's Zoro! Oh my God, there he is! You think he'll look our way?"

"Eh?" I blinked, "Zoro? You mean Roronoa Zoro? He studies here, too?"

Helmeppo grinned. "Glad to know that you're in the know for sports, at least."

"I see Zoro a lot on television because he does a lot of sports commercials!" This was so cool! My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for hair that held a deeper shade of green than Camie's.

It wasn't hard to find him. His moss green hair stood out among the crowd, and I could see him—tall and built with fairly tanned skin and sharp black eyes. He chose not to wear the blazer which he carried by his shoulder, and he must be wearing those three gold earrings that dangled in his left ear. He had with him one kendou stick that was placed inside its bag. Kendou wasn't really one of my favorite sports, but I agreed with Bonney over how cool he was. Everything about him felt really strong.

Wait, if he studies here, then that means that I get to meet him in person, right? I should definitely tell Bonney! Zoro's her favorite sports athlete, and she'd never miss any of his commercials or matches on television. She'd probably fangirl scream and ask me to get her an autograph, too. Maybe I should ask!

"Hey, Luffy!" I could hear Coby from all the cheering, "Zoro's also best friends with Asch and Sanji. See the blonde guy walking next to Zoro? That's Sanji."

I did see him, and the first thing that I thought was that I've never ever seen an eyebrow curlier than his before. Was his other eyebrow curly, too? I couldn't tell because his blonde hair was parted so that his other blue eye was completely covered. Seeing him with Zoro, I was quickly reminded of my differences with Kidd. Zoro was like Kidd—taller and buffer—and I was like Sanji—shorter and leaner.

Well, Sanji was lean. People keep saying that I was skinny.

As people cheered, I could see Sanji's face, and he looked irritated about something. I watched as Zoro looked at him, said something to him, and whatever he said made Sanji smile a bit. Then, he opened his boxed lunch as he walked, using a fork to pick on his food which—my nose wrinkled.

Oh, wow! I could smell that beef stew from here! It was the smell of meat heaven! No doubt about it. He must have cooked it! Does it taste just as good as it smelled?

"There's Asch with them!" Usopp pointed, and just so I could find out who this important guy really was, I squinted my eyes in search of him. Of course, I could still get to smell that delicious beef stew that Sanji had with him! "The one with black hair and freckles next to Zoro! That's him!"

There he was, laughing and raising up Zoro's arm in victory as he urged the rest to cheer for his best friend. I thought he was in between Zoro and Sanji. Not as buff, not as lean, but just about right. He looked just as tall as Zoro, though. His short wavy black hair crept until the back of his neck, and his bangs were parted at the center of his forehead. His eyes were just as black, sharp but bright as they shone, and as he came closer, I could see those freckles that dotted around his cheeks. The reason that I kept staring and not eating the rest of my ribs, though, was because of the way he smiled. So wide, so bright, and the more I looked at him, the more I started to remember a certain smile.

"_A-Ace?"_ A tiny voice in my head spoke weakly, _"A-Ace, Luffy no see Ace." _

For once, and I didn't know why, I just didn't care that I dropped my food. I jumped off my chair and started pushing past the crowd of students.

_It was dark, and it was cold. I shivered, and even when I tried to stop myself from crying, I could feel the wetness running down my cheeks and below my nose. In the end, because I couldn't stop it, I cried more. _

_Why wasn't anyone turning on the lights? Why would someone even have a dark room like this? I was so scared. No one should have dark rooms. When it's dark, I couldn't see anybody. I couldn't see anything. The only person here would be me, all alone in this cold, quiet place that the adults called "the dark." I hated the dark, but I hated being alone even more. _

_Something was moving, but I couldn't see it. Beyond my crying sounds, I could hear scratching noises. Was it the monster? Was he here to make me cry more? I tried to be quiet—I tried to stop crying again so the big monster wouldn't hear me—but I couldn't. I was so scared, and maybe the monster knows that. He knows that I'm scared, he knows that it's me crying, so he's going to get me and hurt me and make me cry even more. _

_What if—What if he'll take me away? Take me somewhere far away? I'll always be alone then, and no one would be able to help me. What if—What if he eats me, too? _

_The scratches continued, getting louder and louder. I curled into a ball further, blindly searching the floor for any blanket to hide under. There was none. _

_The monster scratched and scratched, but he never came for me. Instead, it scratched one last time, and all of a sudden, I could see orange. A small lick of fire burned from a tiny match, and I watched as a small hand of someone familiar lit a candle. The candle was small, but it didn't matter because there was light—nice warm light—and I knew that I wasn't alone in this room anymore. _

_I giggled, no longer crying as I instantly hugged him. "Luffy see Ace!" _

_I love my big brother so much, and I knew that he loves me, too. I pulled back a little to meet his smile. "Don't worry, Luffy," he whispered so softly that no one else—not even the big monsters—could hear him, "Luffy will always see Ace." _

_I hugged him before jumping up to quickly kiss my big brother on his forehead. "Luffy loves Ace." Because he's everything I have, and everything I'll ever need. That's how great Ace is. My big brother's my hero who makes everything better for me because he could do anything. My perfect big brother. _

_He did the same for me, leaning forward to kiss both my teary eyes first before pressing his lips against my forehead. His kisses were longer than mine, and I hugged him even more because I felt so warm with him around. He stopped kissing and let me cuddle with him. _

"_I love you, too, Luffy." _

No one was cheering or clapping anymore. Actually, the whole cafeteria mostly went quiet with people whispering around me. I couldn't really hear what they were talking about.

I must have slipped, right? There was no other way that I was lying face smack on the floor with my chest aching like this. Except the floor was bumpy instead of smooth and—wait. This was a floor, right? Dirty cafeteria floors shouldn't feel this soft and wet on my mouth.

Groaning, I opened my eyes as I got up, but it turned out that I wasn't the only one groaning.

For some reason, that Sanji guy was below me, and he had this funny looking face while staring. It even looked funnier because I got to see the curly brow up close, and he had some red sloppy stuff, meat and vegetable bits on his face and shirt. Looking down further, I could see that my shirt was just as messy, and it smelled like—hey, was that the Beef Stew From Heaven?

I stuck an index finger, wiping a trail across my cheek before licking. Then, I smiled. "Definitely tastes like Beef Stew From Heave—!"

"WHAT THE HELL?" That Sanji guy screamed, shoving me off before jumping up, and I saw Zoro catching him. All the food bits fell to the floor. "RUINED MY DAMN CLOTHES, MADE ME WASTE MY DAMN LUNCH AND—AND—DID YOU JUST—DID YOU JUST—OH FUCK! I AM GOING TO _MURDER_ YOU!" He began furiously wiping his lips with his wrist, and my butt began to hurt from landing on the real floor. Then, he kept screaming and hissing words in another language—_shit, motherfucker, bastard son of a bitch—_

Someone was running, and the next thing I knew, Usopp fell on his knees beside me. "_Luffy!_" he whispered through gritted teeth. For some reason, and I didn't know why, Usopp looked even more scared than when we were with Stuffy Buggy earlier, "You just knocked down Sanji's lunch!"

"Uhh, yeah, freshman kid!" Some random girl who overheard Usopp say, "But forget about that! He just stole a kiss from Sanji!"

"Oh my God! That asshole!"

"Yeah, she's right! I saw that, too!"

"Oh, man. This kid's so dead."

"Not sure who'll kill him more. Blackleg or Roronoa?"

"Doesn't matter. He's dead anyway!" While everyone else was screaming stuff, and while I could see the rest of my friends acting out these running gestures from the back, I felt a pair of arms grab me.

"Nothing to see here, ladies and gentlemen!" My eyes widened when I heard that voice, and before I could act, I was quickly spun around. Ace—I didn't care if he was supposed to be dead because this guy looked so much like Ace, so he _had_ to be him—had his hands firmly placed on my shoulders, and he leaned closer to whisper, "Listen, you. You better run. I can try and stop him for you, but when Zoro's pissed, he's _pissed_. The guy has eyes greener than the Incredible Hulk, okay?"

I shook my head furiously, grabbing Ace by the head and forcing him to look only at me. If he'd look at me more closely, would he recognize me? "No, wait! Ace! Look! It's me! I didn't come for that Curly Brow guy! I came for you!"

That's weird. Besides shouting, I thought I could hear people whistling from the background.

"I-I'm sorry—have we met?" Oh no! Ace's face is turning red! That means he won't answer any questions, right? He was starting to struggle against my grip. "W-Wait—I don't really—can you _please _let go? I-I don't really swing that way, you know?"

"But, Ace! Stop moving and look at me!"

"Okay, seriously! You're freaking me out, and I won't even ask how you know me by that name! Just let go of me, damn it!"

"No! I'm not letting go! I'm not going to let go of you again! You never came back to—!" I gasped when someone grabbed me by the collar, and I felt my feet dangling slightly in mid-air.

"You." Zoro hissed, and I began to struggle when I saw that Curly Brow Sanji guy tapping one foot against the ground before raising his leg like he was going to kick me. Normally, I should be punching these guys by now, but if I did that, then maybe Bonney wouldn't forgive me if Zoro doesn't show up for another tournament, and my new friends wouldn't like it, either. "_You_. My _fist_. Your _face_," he swore in between his breaths.

"Let go! Let go! Ace, help!" Zoro really was strong! I kept thrashing and thrashing, but he kept countering me, and the more I continued, the more I found it difficult to even move.

Or, maybe that's because I was getting... sleepy?

Yeah.

Definitely.

_Really _sleepy_. _

"Stop!" I could hear Usopp yelling, but he sounded more like an echo now, "He didn't mean it! It was just an accident and some huge misunderstanding! Right, Luff—"

"Hey, _wait_!" It sounded like Ace this time, "Wait, you! What was that? What was his name again?"

"Lucy!" _Usopp! _I wanted to complain, but it just came out as a yawn. _How could you forget my name?_

Oh, well. I'll complain to him later, I decided. All I needed now was sleep. My vision was all blurry, but before my eyes glued themselves shut, I thought I could see Zoro's lips mouthing the words, "The hell?"

"Zoro! Sanji! Forget it, and get Lucy to the clin—"

_But, Ace! My name is Luffy! And, you're not Asch! You're Ace! Who told you that? _

"—narcoleptic , and for all you know, he was sleep walk—"

_Ace, it's me! All this time, I thought you were dead! Why didn't you come home? _

"—entire time!"

_Don't you remember me anymore? Please remember…!_

"—be okay, Lucy." _But, that's exactly what you said the last time. _

_You said that everything would be okay. _

~*~ Omake ~*~

Buggy: –sitting in his faculty desk while flipping through a bunch of files-

Buggy: How dare he…! How dare he makes fun of my nose… that Monkey D. Luffy brat! Ah, there it is! -pulls out a piece of paper that was labeled as 'The Shit List'-

Buggy: Stupid brat will rue the day when he said that… Second in line, right after Newgate! I swear, this year, I'll get him expelled! I don't care who his father is! "Stuffy Buggy," just he wait! –evil laughter, but the phone rings and Buggy picks it up- Hello?

?: BUGGY!

Buggy: Who is this?

?: Hey, don't you remember your old pal?

Buggy: No.

?: I'll give you a hint. LET'S GET SOME DRINKS! DAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Buggy: S-S-S-Shanks!

Shanks: It's been a while, Buggy!

Buggy: Shanks?! How did you—?!

Shanks: Oh, that's because my friend's grandson, Luffy, and Yasopp's kid, Usopp, are in your class, so hey! I just thought of trying to contact you to say hi!

Buggy: Hi.

Shanks: It's been ages since we've last heard from each other! I even tried contacting you on Facebook, but you're not responding to any of my friend requests! C'mon, I'm hurt. We're pals, aren't we?

Buggy: NO, WE'RE NOT! I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, SHANKS!

Shanks: Huh?

Buggy: DON'T 'huh' ME! IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT M-MY—MY NOSE…!

-flashback at the Oro Jackson University, Chemistry Lab-

_Buggy: -carefully adding drops of liquid into a test tube- Carefully… carefully…! If this thesis comes out right, then I'm going to patent it and then I'll be rich!_

_Shanks: -pops out of nowhere- BUGGY!_

_Buggy: -nearly drops the chemicals and glares at Shanks- Shanks! Knock, you idiot!_

_Shanks: Oh, sorry! Knock, knock! Dahahaha! But, anyway, hey, Buggy! Guess what? Lucky's borrowed his family van, so I'm going to go on a joyride around town and grab some drinks! Ben and Yasopp are coming, too! Why don't you just drop those for a while and join us for some fun?_

_Buggy: No! I'm busy!_

_Shanks: Come on, pleaaaaaaaase?_

_Buggy: No!_

_Shanks: Pleaaaase? Pretty pleaaaase? Pretty pleaaaaaase with sugar on top?_

_Buggy: Shanks. You're drunk, aren't you?_

_Shanks: Not yet! DAHAHAHAHAHAHA!_

_Buggy: GET OUT OF MY LAB NOW BEFORE I HURL THIS AT YOU!_

_Shanks: -laughs like a drunk maniac while running out-_

_Buggy: -sighs and gets back to work, waiting for the last drop to fall-_

_Shanks: -running but realizes that he forgot to close the door- Oh, right. Gotta close. Buggy wouldn't want to be disturbed. –ends up slamming the door without warning-_

_-explosion sounds-_

_Shanks: -stares and opens the lab door again- Eh? Buggy? Buggy? Buggy! BLIMEY BLOODY HELL! BUGGY! YOUR NOSE!_

- end flashback-

Shanks: Still don't get what you were trying to do in that lab.

Buggy: AND, I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, SHANKS! MY THESIS WENT DOWN THE DRAIN AND MY—MY NOSE…!

Shanks: Dahahahaha! I'm sure that if we get together for some drinks, we'll just end up laughing about it and we're going to think of all the good times we've shared with each other! Anyway, Buggy! Got to go and meet up with Ben and Yassop! Take care of Luffy and Usopp, won't you?

Buggy: Oh… I'll take care of them…

Shanks: Right, cheerios, Buggy! –whistles while hanging up-

Buggy: -places Usopp's name in 'The Shit List'-

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Well, it's official that Shanks pretty much screwed God Usopp over. In canon, Usopp could never catch a break. I guess that's something I carried over to this fanfiction. :))_

A little commentary, I suppose? This rewritten chapter actually covers four chapters from the original version! Specifically, Luffy's first two chapters, Nami's and also Usopp's. I feel that it would just get everything over with, and at the same time, we have major story progression. Hey, at least Ace and Luffy meet by the second chapter. Sort of. :))) That there is something I think everyone here is celebrating over.

_When I thought of Stuffy Buggy, I thought of "King Moron" in Persona 4. Definitely built him as professor around that character. Heck, for more of a Persona 4 reference, I used that "Rare Penguin Biscuit," too. But then, the omake happened... and all I could think of now was that Buggy is now a Snape. Forever holding a grudge. He's totally a Snape. _

_Personally, I think Luffy's character here is more heartfelt to me, specifically since he remembers Ace and that he has a lot to mourn over yet he really tries to keep smiling. Although, there will be "those" times... (and hopefully, Ace will be there for him by then! We'll see!) _

_At the same time, I'm trying to also give some importance to Kidd, Bonney, and the rest of the East Blue gang. I notice that a lot of "new kid moves into town" stories don't really give much importance to friends left behind (at least, the ones I encountered), so I try to fill in some important roles for them. Well... there's Hawkins, but the guy's... well, for those who read the original version, we all know how he's like. -wink, wink- Expect to hear more from the East Blue gang! _

_Anyway, again, a Merry Christmas to everyone, and I hope that this chapter added more to your festivities! :) _

_Don't forget to drop a review if you can! Reviews make this author happy. :D_


	3. The Newgate Family

Review responses:

**luckystarchibichibi:** Well, here's your chapter. :) Updates on a bi-weekly basis! And yes, I pictured that entire scene in my head, and even I found myself chuckling a bit.

**ASLfangirl:** Actually, yes. I can already see differences between the previous characterization of Luffy vs. the rewrite version. Previously, I sort of wanted to keep Luffy's canon personality in character. We all know that he's... very random. But then, after the moment when Ace died, I could already see that Luffy is really capable of a lot of drama (when it counts). So, for this version, I thought that I could still keep Luffy in character, but I can still balance it with a bit of dramatic seriousness to make him more... "real?" Something like that. The result is pretty much what you read. :) Glad you liked it. Oh, and yeah. Classic Buggy and Shanks moment.

Time to get this chapter started. It's a slightly longer one than the last, but I think you guys are already used to that.

**_Disclaimer_: _I don't own One Piece or anything really. I wish I did. My OTPs would have been as canon as Korrasami from Legend of Korra. That would have been great. _**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 3: The Newgate Family ~ Marco Phoenix ~<em>

Laboratory D—also known as "Punk Hazard" by those who really knew of the potential dangers created in there. It was a government facility that was famous for research and scientific advancement, specifically for military warfare. Deadly weapons, heavy artillery and toxic fumes that could freeze the human nervous system with just one false sniff—for years, all of those were made in there by top scientists and weapon development specialists gathered from all around the world. Having a strict "No War Policy," the Japanese wanted little to do with it, but the national government was put under pressure by a number of mostly Western countries, especially with issues like the so-called "War on Terror" in the Middle East as well as some pressing problems in maritime security.

Heated debate, however, ended relatively quickly the moment Lord Newgate stepped in, and it was his word that tipped the scales. In the end, by his recommendation, the Japanese government had Punk Hazard built in the outskirts of the special administrative region of _Shin Sekai_—otherwise known as "New Japan" in the international sphere—which was a rising Asian power with a rich supply of resources and industry, friendly foreign policies, a high GDP per capita as well as an increasing economic growth rate to boast about. So, it was here that the wealthy foreign powers ran their businesses, pooling their investments for each project designed in the famous yet highly controversial weapons facility.

Except now, it was in partial ruins—about one-fourth of the entire facility was burnt to the ground after a major explosion happened. The world media held a full news coverage of the incident in every news channel, blaming it on faulty laboratory procedures, which, thankfully, didn't cause the release of lethal radiation. Efficient cooperation between the government's disaster management team and the local fire departments managed to extinguish the flames before they could even reach the radioactive materials that were stored in another area.

Of course, the media catered to the public, and the public was only allowed to know so much. Only a handful of people knew the truth, and one of them happened to be Lord Newgate. When he found out that the research facility that he partially funded—the same facility that also provided a huge source of income from the Family's weapon trades—was actually infiltrated by unknown terrorists, he was _beyond_ furious.

The doors opened, and I could hear dozens of feet shuffling along with bits and pieces of ongoing conversations. Chair legs were being dragged across the floor as everyone filed inside the room and took their assigned seats around the long table. Once more, I reviewed through a couple of files at hand, stopping to frown at one in particular.

Serial ID No. **S-0098596**

Current Status: **MISSING**

"Odd" was very much the understatement. The fact that the terrorists didn't even bother causing crippling amounts of damage like a radioactive explosion or a full-blown shootout when they certainly could meant that they intended to leave Punk Hazard alive that night. Something was stolen in that laboratory, and whatever it was exactly, it must have significant importance for Lord Newgate himself to call for an emergency meeting.

"S—zero, zero—hey, what's that?" Without warning, a pair of hands pressed down on my shoulders as someone leaned closer, and I immediately shoved him off.

"Something." Even before turning to him, I already knew Ace was scowling.

"Yeah, I know it's _something_," he grumbled, "It has to be _something _if we're all here at two o' clock in the morning. Hey, Vista! Tell me something about S—zero, zero, something."

Vista who just took his seat a few chairs away gave a wry smile. "Well, _Señorito_," he said with a sharp roll of his tongue, "I know many codes that begin with S—zero, zero, something."

"Alright. Tell me what went missing."

"Unfortunately, your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps, you should ask Squado. Might be one of his weapon projects stored in Punk Hazard."

"None of my designs begin with those digits," Squado said as he arrived with a pushcart, "Safe to say, they weren't after my latest models." I could already smell the freshly brewed coffee steaming from the large coffee maker along with the warm basket of bread and pastries. Somewhere in the middle of those empty cups was a large teapot, specifically for the Head of the Family who wasn't as fond of coffee as the rest of us.

When the cart came close, Ace made a grab for the sticky cinnamon bun, wolfing down the first few bites as he sat on the chair next to Lord Newgate's. "At least," he said in between, "It'd be a total pain in the ass if some group of terrorists got their hands on those mini nukes you've been working on. Has anyone even bought those yet? Last time I checked, the price that Marco set for those things in the black market was practically robbery. Even for us, and that says a _lot_."

I took one cup and began to serve myself some coffee. "Name me another Family who has direct access to nuclear weapons without having to seek internal military connections."

Ace quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sensing that that's a rhetorical question?"

"Exactly. We work by supply and demand."

"It disturbs me, then, that they weren't aiming for those," Vista rubbed his chin, "It would mean that whatever was stolen is far, far worse."

Squado sniffed, rolling his eyes. "And, if the Head Intelligence of this Family is just as clueless as the rest of us are, then that's a clear sign that we are all screwed."

"_Mi amigo, _you wound me!" Vista placed a hand directly above his heart in a display of dramatic emphasis, "But, no matter! Words are just words. I know that you have faith in my skills and that our long friendship holds a special place in your heart."

"Keep talking. Want me to pour acid on your coffee, _fiore_ _bastardo_?"

While drinking and shuffling a few papers, I could hear that threat followed by a hard slap and a howl of pain.

"Dammit!" Squado swore between a string of Italian curses, "Stop pulling on my ear, you cross dressing harpy!"

The last comment must have earned him an extra tug from the irate maidservant, otherwise he wouldn't be yelling more. "One more word from you, and I'll shove you inside your own roasting oven!"

I set down my cup after drinking, shaking my head. So, the Head Maid of the house was attacking the chef. No surprise there. It's already become an established fact that Izou has some uncanny ability of being within earshot whenever Squado would choose to verbally abuse the gardener—even when he'd think that she wasn't around.

"Izumi, Squado's only joking!" Vista chuckled, "We all know that the man just has a dry sense of humor!" How someone as intelligent as Vista can misinterpret constant verbal abuse and the frequent knife throws as signs of friendship are beyond me. Either the man has the patience of a saint or he was that dense. Yet, when it really comes down to it, the two are best friends. Again, how? I wouldn't really know. I already gave up trying to understand those two and their dynamics a long time ago.

Squado let out one last yelp before getting released, and as he grumbled, I could hear Izou gently murmur to Vista, "Only I have the right to call you a flower bastard." After placing the files back inside their envelope, I looked at those two, and I could see Izou carrying a tray with two cups of coffee as she stood by the gardener's side. She offered one to Vista.

"_Sí, gracias,_" he said while taking it, "Double with only a teaspoon of sugar?"

"Of course."

Happily, the gardener planted a kiss on her hand. "_Mi_ Izumi, you are too good for me." The woman chuckled heartily at his comment as I cleared my throat and passed them the files.

"None of that during the meeting."

As Vista drank from his coffee and began going through the files one by one, Izou scoffed. "Yes, Marco. No need to remind us. We're mature adults, after all. Not a couple of teenagers running on hormones."

"The loud noises behind my bedroom wall don't count?" Squado would have said more if only Izou hadn't flashed the hilt of her gun from her pocket as a sign of warning.

"Forget what Marco's saying, Izou," Ace waved before suddenly raising the volume of his voice, "We all know he's just a big _prude_!"

"Don't worry, _mi amigo_," Vista added as the other servants in the room began laughing, and I began to rub circles around my temple, "There is a value in waiting until marriage." I could already feel that migraine coming in.

Izou rolled her eyes. "_Please_. I don't want to hear that from you."

"Ah, but I don't hear you complaining, _mi amor._"

"Touché."

I swear. If it wasn't Juzo, then it was Ace, and if it wasn't Ace, it was Vista. "I am _not _a prude. I just don't want _that _woman to get any ideas." Someone needs to _clearly _explain to those three that disinterest does _not _mean prudery. Especially to Juzo. And, especially to—

"What ideas?" The surrounding laughter instantly died down the moment she spoke, and I felt a cold, hard lump land inside my stomach, "There's only one idea! It's marriage, you know!" I've already lost count over the number of times I've wanted to bang my head against the table today. Really, the only redeeming point of this moment was the satisfaction I got from seeing Ace nearly choking on his second cinnamon bun.

Next to me, she was giggling, and I knew that she wouldn't stop until I paid notice. Slowly, reluctantly, I turned my head and saw Whitney greeting me with her usual cheshire grin. She pulled a chair and sat next to me, passing me a cup of fresh coffee. As always, Haruta was by her side, holding her hand like a small child who was overly attached to her mother.

"I brought you coffee," Whitney started.

I eyed the drink warily, watching the small wisp of steam harmlessly rise from the murky dark liquid. "I already have my own." I wouldn't trust anything that she'd give me personally. The first and only time I did, I ended up spending a full hour under a cold shower to nurse a painful and unsettled erection. Horrible day indeed.

"Oh, that's too bad," and she said this while flashing Squado a dangerous smile. Her poisonous-sweet looking expression was enough to cause him to shiver.

"_Sestra, _if he doesn't want it, I can have it," Haruta offered quickly, "I don't want what you made to go to waste."

"Such a sweet girl." Whitney took the pitcher of milk from the pushcart and poured a bit of its contents onto the coffee along with two teaspoons of sugar. After stirring, she passed it to Haruta who drank from it, her gaze never leaving me.

I narrowed my eyes. It was only during those few seconds when Whitney wasn't looking did Haruta throw a hissing glare towards me. The little brat.

"Let's not wait," I did nothing to hide my discomfort at the fact that Whitney had her arms wrapped around one of my own, "Let's get married now?"

I pointed to her chair briskly. "We have a seating arrangement. Follow it."

"Actually, she can have my seat!"

"Juzo—" It struck me as odd when I saw how Whitney managed to widen her smile even more than I thought was possible, "You will take your original seat. _Now_." Instead, I began thinking that perhaps one day, Juzo will die a very gruesome and painful death. Hopefully, by my hands.

"Hey, I really don't mind," Juzo said while chewing on a frosted donut, "I just want to try some of these donuts, and you know—live? Oh, hey these are really good—"

"Well, since Juzo brought it up, perhaps I could suggest a revision in the seating arrangement, then?" Vista raised. At this, I rolled my eyes. Obviously, if it meant sitting as far away as possible from Whitney during meetings, the man would take any chances.

"You might have to save it for later," Ace said, "Dad's already here." There was a heavy slam of the door, and the roll of footsteps that fell like thunder had all of us standing up in unison as we watched the Head of the Family make his way to the large empty seat between mine and Ace's.

"I apologize for the impromptu meeting, but this is an urgent matter that requires our attention." The authority that distinguished Lord Newgate's voice was still there, yet for some reason, it felt much more weary—as if the full burdens that came with age finally struck him hard. From the very way he carried his teacup after Squado gave it to him to the way he asked us to take our seats, I could tell that something was wrong. _Very wrong_. All that previous anger dissipated, and now the man was left trembling.

None of us spoke. The only sound in the room came from the loud clinking sounds of silver against china as Lord Newgate hastily stirred in a sugar cube while cursing under his breath, and from the way the cup was rattling against the plate, it was obvious that any care he would usually place in handling his tea was forgotten. The sounds seemed to be getting louder. More unsettling.

While some continued to watch him, others were exchanging glances amongst themselves. From where I was, I could see Juzo silently mouthing a few words to me—"What happened?" Across me, Ace was sending me a look of concern as well. I merely shrugged. Haruta gave her mentor and older sister figure a hand squeeze, but Whitney—I could easily tell since the mad woman refused to leave my side—had a tiny smile hidden behind pale, nimble fingers. My eyes narrowed. If anything, she was the only one here who seemed highly amused.

All of a sudden, the shrill rattling came to a stop. "Ace." Just one word—one name—on its own had all eyes fixed on both father and son, and Ace practically stilled. Previously shaking lips were calm now as Lord Newgate began to drink his tea.

I've known Ace for years—took care of him for more than half his life, really—and one thing I knew for sure was that whenever his father called his attention like this, he'd immediately be told off. Except now, this wasn't the case and the silent treatment must be slowly killing him. Ace opened his mouth, about to speak, but Lord Newgate caught this. In one sharp liquid motion, he raised a hand, and that prompted the teen to hold his tongue. The hardened expression Lord Newgate wore on his face was anything but readable.

Then, he set the cup down on his plate, and a few words rumbled from his throat. "Ace. Please leave."

He didn't care that there was another gesture for silence. The chair ends screeched against wood as Ace immediately rose from his seat, staring hard at the older figure who remained undaunted.

"Why?"

The question caused Lord Newgate to eye him sharply, calculatingly. "I won't require you to be here this time. Go back to sleep."

"Why?" Ace repeated, "What's so special about this meeting?"

"It is a different matter altogether, something I feel that you shouldn't be involved in."

"And, you're not answering the question—_why_?"

"It's too dangerous."

"Define 'dangerous'—"

"Ace—"

"Because I think I've seen 'dangerous' already," Ace snapped quickly, hands fallen smack on the table, "You've always been honest with me. What else is dangerous? I've seen things. I've _done _things. Our 'clients' who come to us for favors? They're all slime balls, and you know it. Paid assassinations, smuggling, drug cartels, weapon brokering, gambling circles and death threats? Getting at least fifty percent kickbacks in some shady business operations that we sponsor? Paying the less powerful families to do the dirty work we don't want to be associated with? We're not exactly saints here, and nothing we do is considered _safe_."

"_You _are the last person who should tell me that," Lord Newgate replied heatedly, "But, enough! I will stress this out for you just one more time—this is _dangerous_. Even for _you_."

"You're singling me out here!"

"_And_, for good reason!"

Ace was already past the point of half-screaming. "What was stolen from that laboratory? That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

"I will not answer that, and you will—"

"And what's the worst that could possibly happen this time? What makes this so different? Some enemy turf war ripped out from Hollywood or—"

Like a powerful sledgehammer, Lord Newgate slammed his fist onto the table, drawing terrified looks, some uncomfortable movements from others and an abrupt silence from Ace. The sudden and unexpected force made the table tremble, the glassware shaking as if threatening to shatter. In contrast, the chandelier above remained still, but that could change if things get worse.

"There will be _no _more questions," Lord Newgate said harshly, face fuming red while pointing a shaking finger towards Ace, "Not another word. I don't want to hear _another _word from you about this, and I don't want to hear a word from you until daytime. You will go back to your room, you will sleep, and you will forget about this entire ordeal completely. It does not and _will not _concern you. You are hereby dismissed from this meeting. _Immediately._"

Ace continued to stare at him. Defiance was still burning in his eyes, a distinguishing detail about him that Lord Newgate was never blind to.

"As Head of this Family," he spoke firmly, "That is an order, Ace."

When that card was played, further arguing was useless at this point, and experience probably taught him this. Wordlessly, and almost mechanically, Ace stood up, proud and indignant, refusing to look at anyone as he made quick strides to take his leave, but not without slamming the doors nearly off their hinges. His seat was left vacant now with only a plate of breadcrumbs and a half-finished cup of coffee as telltale signs of his presence. Izou regarded the now empty chair sadly, and knowing her, she'd stop by Ace's room after the meeting just to check on him. She was always the motherly one.

When he first entered, he was grim and apprehensive. Now, he was an infuriated mess, a time bomb ready to explode at any given second. Lord Newgate was hissing and spitting, the color of his face shifting among several shades of red and purple as he cursed in what had to be Italian. Only a few of us could actually comprehend what he was saying, although I could tell that he must have called Squado at some point because the man had suddenly sprung up from his seat and was swiftly preparing another cup of tea. It soon became obvious, though, that the man wasn't completely in his right state of mind.

"I-I'm sorry, Master," Rakuyo who had absolutely no knowledge of Italian at all stuttered after Lord Newgate barked some strange sounding orders at him, "I-I don't understand wh-wha—"

"I SAID TO TURN THAT BLOODY PROJECTOR ON!" Rakuyo immediately scrambled to do as told. Across him, Namur—fearing the Head of the Family's wrath—took this as a cue to open his laptop and connect it to the projector.

To everyone's relief, Lord Newgate started to calm down when he drank his tea. No one spoke, choosing to save the gossip for later. For now, we kept as composed as possible despite everything that just occurred—all with the exception of Whitney. Laughter was ready to tumble from her lips as she giddily rocked back and forth on her seat. Despite being clearly visible to him by two seats, Lord Newgate chose to ignore this. Sanity—or the lack of it, really—was never that woman's finest trait.

"Marco. Have you received the video file from Iceberg?"

I pulled out the USB from my pocket. After an affirming nod from Lord Newgate, I passed it to Namur who plugged it into the laptop and started the video.

The video—medium quality at best—didn't even last long with everything happening in a span of seconds. A guard's bloody corpse had been thrown against the corner, and judging from the wounds, he was probably shot a few times. Then, a number of men wearing robber masks ran down the corridor. Only one wasn't wearing a mask, but before I could get a better look at him, he raised his gun and shot the camera. The screen went pitch black. Namur replayed the video, but this time, in slow motion.

Lord Newgate's eyes never left the screen. "Is this all?"

I nodded. "It was the only one Mr. Tom's men could recover. Their guess was that most of the cameras were disabled by an enemy hacker."

"Names. I need names."

The unmasked man appeared again behind screen. I took one last glance at him—at his pale and hulking figure with long matted hair, piercing cold eyes and a sadistic grin that lacked a few teeth. He shot the screen once more, but that very last second glance was all I needed to cast away all doubts from my mind.

"Blue Jam." The name was enough to break down the silence of the entire room into dreaded whispers.

Somewhere behind me, I could hear Vista clearing his throat. "Marco, _that _is a name that I have not heard of for the longest time, and it's not a name that should be taken lightly."

My glare caused him to draw back slightly. "It's Blue Jam. I _know_ who I saw."

He shook his head. "Blue Jam—whose real name still remains unknown—has faded into obscurity years ago. No one's heard of him since. He has become somewhat of a legend in criminal underground, a horror story never to be spoken of."

"Rumor has it that the reason Jack the Ripper was never caught was because he fled from England for some other country. They say Blue Jam is his descendent from some poor hapless woman that he murdered anyway," Squado added, "Well, whether that's true or not, Blue Jam is certainly this generation's Ripper."

"But, it can't be him!" Izou interjected, "Blue Jam was said to have died years ago!"

"Nope. Marco's right. It's Blue Jam," Juzo said. He was next to Namur, dragging the cursor towards the screenshot of Blue Jam before he shot the camera, and after pressing a few keys, the screen zoomed in. Juzo's mouth was left hanging. "Shit. Marco, look at him. It's like he hasn't aged a day."

It was true, upon looking at him close. His disheveled hair—which should have been graying by now—was still black. His face carried no wrinkles. His tall, muscular built was still fit and strong. It was like time had forgotten him after thirteen years, and I was staring at some twisted, old memory. From the back of my head, I could hear the sounds of mad laughter echoing from a distance.

I had to fight back the sick bile-like sensation that rose until my throat.

"Oh. He's not dead, then," Whitney tilted her head in a show of curiosity, "Are we dealing with a ghost?"

"Not just," Lord Newgate muttered weakly, his face turning pallid as he clenched the handle of his tea cup, "If it is Blue Jam, then this could be the Krieg Family that we're dealing with—and they have stolen _that _data. It's just as I feared."

"Something is bothering me about all of this. Lord Newgate, permission to speak?"

"Permission granted."

Haruta nodded in polite acknowledgment towards Lord Newgate, a light frown marring her features. "This is a really well executed operation, and we're not dealing with amateur thieves employed by an enemy family. They must have had an inside person. First of all, they had to know which building didn't contain any radiation tanks. Second, they chose a building that was far enough from the nuclear facilities, so they'd have an ample amount of time for escaping. But, then again, we're talking about nuclear radiation which covers a wide scale radius. At least, there would be enough time for the fire to be extinguished. See, if the goal was just to steal something, it could have been done quietly, but what they did was over the top. If anything, I think bombing Punk Hazard was just the warning shot."

"You're saying that they're trying to send us a message?" Lord Newgate raised.

"I'm saying that there are just _too_ many coincidences that it makes you wonder." The room fell silent again, but there was _that _laughter, and the silence only served to amplify it further.

Haruta stood up from her seat, heading towards the laptop. She undid the slow motion effect, replaying the video for the third time. Watching this caused her frown to deepen even more.

"See, look at this," she paused the video on Blue Jam's face, "Why is it only one person who's unmasked? And, of all people, it had to be someone as infamous as Blue Jam—never mind that he hasn't aged. Maybe he really is dead, and this is just an impostor who's trying to drive us on edge. That's suspicious. In fact, this entire video is suspicious enough."

Izou's eyes widened. "That's because it's the only video that could be retrieved, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Haruta pointed, "It's the _only _video that Mr. Tom managed to retrieve. If the enemy had a professional hacker, he or she would have been able to bypass Punk Hazard's standard firewall security. Dismantling CCTV camera operations would have been no problem, and even if it was, the inside person could have done it manually. So, how is it that this video in particular was the only one to be taken?"

Vista frowned, crossing his arms. "I see. So, it's not that the enemy hacker couldn't disable all the cameras. It's just that he or she chose not to. Therefore, this video could serve as some form of bait."

"And, they're just waiting for us to take it. They're not being reckless. The Krieg Family wants us to follow after their trail," Haruta added, "The only thing we're missing, though, is a clear motive. What are they really trying to accomplish?"

Another moment of silence fell among us. Everyone was waiting for the Head of the Family to state the next move.

"_Hahahahahaha…!"_

Lord Newgate's lips formed a thin line, his brows knitted and his forehead creased. He shifted on his chair and sank back, musing distantly.

I clenched my fists. I wanted that laughter to get out.

"What exactly have they stolen?" Vista asked, holding up the files, "I checked the files. It didn't even go into detail about it. Just a report on how it was stolen."

"_Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…!" _

Lord Newgate's expression darkened. "That's because it's classified as top secret data that only a handful know about, myself included. It would be deemed unsafe to even have a written copy of it. Consider it a set of blueprints, highly important _and _highly dangerous, especially in the wrong hands. If this was really their form of bait, then they chose a good one. It should _not _reach Don Krieg."

"_Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…!" _

_**Get out… **_

"As of now, retrieving that data is the number one priority, but at the same time, we can't jump into the disadvantage. Vista and Izou, coordinate with the Blackleg Family and gather intelligence. Trace Blue Jam's possible route after he stole the data and his present location. Haruta, strategize and outsmart Krieg. Come up with the retrieval plan along with a few contingencies should the Krieg Family try to take the upper hand."

"_Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…!" _

_**Get out of my head…!**_

"Whitney. You're on standby."

"_Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…!"_

_**Get out. Get out. Get out…!**_

A dark chuckle escaped Whitney's lips. "An assassination?" she asked coyly, "Because I'm no good at interrogations if you're looking to get answers from Blue Jam."

_**Shut up.**_

"I require nothing short of one. Retrieve the stolen data and kill Blue Jam—impostor or not. The fact that he's alive, and somehow hasn't aged at all, is a major threat on its own."

"_Let's play a game." _

_**No. Shut up. **_

"_I'll show you some ways to kill, and then you can kill me. If you can."_

_**Just shut up! I'm not like you…! **_

"_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…!"_

_**SHUT THE HELL UP!**_

"Marco," Lord Newgate spoke, his tone careful, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had just stood up from my seat, "Are you okay?" The palms of my hands were flat against the table as I leaned against the wood, my back hunched. My cup had been knocked over, and coffee that grew cold spilled across the table and onto the floor. I was catching my breath, frantically searching from right to left. Did my words suddenly slip? Everyone was watching.

But, the laughter had stopped.

"Hand me the job," I found myself saying, "I'll kill him."

The words weren't taken without offense. Haruta stood up, eyes flaring and belligerent. "What are you saying? That _Sestra_ isn't good enough? That Lord Newgate's making the wrong decision? You may be second-in-command here, but Lord Newgate's the Head of this Family, so he has the final say in things! _You—_!" But, she didn't continue. Whitney quietly placed a hand over her shoulder, and the younger maidservant sat down. Then, she turned to me, standing up with her expression dropping to low temperatures. The cheerful mask was discarded.

"So," Whitney began coldly with her natural thick accent, "You're saying I cannot kill him?"

I returned the icy look with one of my own. "I'm saying I'd rather kill Blue Jam myself."

"You're not the only one here who wants to."

"And, you of all people know I have my reasons. So, if you know any better, _don't _get in my way."

"That will be enough," Lord Newgate raised his hand before Whitney could fire another response, "I'd rather not send more people out. Especially the two of you."

Whitney and I never broke eye contact even as we mumbled out our apologies. Lord Newgate gestured for us to sit.

"I'm sorry, Marco, but Haruta is right. My decision still holds," he continued, "Whitney will carry out the assassination, and you will remain here where you are mostly needed by all of us. Should Whitney fail—or, Lord forbids, gets killed in the process—then I will personally send you to finish the job."

A satisfied smirk curled on Whitney's lips when this was said. "That won't be necessary, Lord Newgate. _No one _ever survives." And, no one dared to contest to that statement. Not saying anything, I busied myself with withdrawing a handkerchief from my pocket and cleaning the coffee spill on the table. Meanwhile, Lord Newgate cleared his throat.

"I will repeat my question. Are you okay, Marco?" he asked. I told him I was, and even if his look remained dubious, he didn't ask again. The meeting ended after a few more role assignments were given and some issues were discussed—in particular, the exact nature of the stolen data. By the time we were finished, it was nearly four, and most of us were exhausted.

Barely anyone spoke to me, probably driven away after how I acted in that emotional roller coaster of a meeting, and that was fine with me because I honestly didn't feel like talking. As I headed towards my room suite, though, just another pair of footsteps accompanied my own, and I knew I wasn't alone.

To see that it was Whitney didn't surprise me, but this time, Haruta wasn't tagging along with her.

"Don't worry, Marco," she spoke in a sing song voice as she made a slow—almost predatorial—approach, "I'm not _that_ selfish."

I stood my ground. I knew what she was trying to do. Take a few more steps back, and I'd be driven towards a corner. She's very fond of trapping others. "I'd rather not deal with you right now."

She captured my lips briefly and without warning before chuckling. "I know. We're both tired. Your room?" Her eyes glimmered with mischief, but that disappeared when I drew a switchblade from my pocket and held it against her throat.

"I _said _I'd rather not deal with you right now." Her lips formed another smirk, but she took the switchblade as a sign and stepped back. I continued to eye her warily.

"I can't sleep knowing that you're bitter because of me," she sighed, "I just want you to know that I won't be the one to kill him, if it makes you happy."

"You're going against an order?"

"Not really," she giggled before her voice dropped several octaves down so that only I could hear it, "After I'm done with him, Blue Jam's nearly dying body will be my gift to you. You'll deliver the killing blow."

I didn't respond, but she took my silence with satisfaction. With one last good night, she went, and I was left alone to ponder on thoughts of murder—cold, violent and relentless murder. Vengeance would be served at the highest degree, and I could be _this _close to achieving it. All I needed was a bit more patience.

That night, I dreamt of laughter. Harsh and cruel laughter as well as endless screaming.

* * *

><p>Despite rush hour, traffic was considerably lighter than normal. Even more reason why I wouldn't need the installed GPS to suggest any detours, the first being that it was already unnecessary for this trip. Heading to the Baratie was just as familiar to me as the way back to Newgate Mansion. I could probably give someone directions over the phone while cooking up some rather complex snack, and that person would probably make it there, assuming he or she has a general sense of direction.<p>

When the traffic signal eventually turned green, I shifted gears and drove smoothly, swinging the wheel to the next left before continuing down a road already memorized. Around five more minutes until we arrive, judging from the pace. Cars, trucks and other vehicles followed their respective lanes in an organized fashion, moving at uniformly moderate speeds with the occasional driver signaling for an overtake.

Behind me, Lord Newgate was in the middle of a business call. The speaker in the other end must have been a local businessman if he was speaking in Japanese which, although fluent, dropped hints of an Anglicized accent if one listened a bit closely. At the very least, he did take pride in being able to express himself clearly to some of the thriftiest business locals of New Japan. The person speaking, however, must not be one of them if the call ended with a gruff remark from Lord Newgate who began to mumble in vexation about half-baked proposals and reckless expenditures.

Speaking of phone calls…

"Pardon, sir, but I just want to inform you that Izou received a call from a 'Mr. Akagami' earlier this afternoon. You were already busy in the office, so he said he'll call back."

"Akagami? Never heard of him. A salesman of some sort?"

"He said he's a social worker, dealing with orphaned children and child custody cases."

"Is he interested with Ace?" His tone was immediately apprehensive. I told him that the man wasn't, and that managed to calm him down slightly. "Another one looking for sponsors, I reckon. Have him know that I don't often do charity."

"Izou said Mr. Akagami insisted on seeing you in person. He wanted to discuss with you about something highly important, but he wouldn't mention exactly what that was over the phone."

"What's new? The man must be an investigative journalist in disguise. Well, have her look into my schedule for this month. If there's no room, but the man's still fairly interested, just squeeze him in for the next month. I will give him ten minutes." Another addition to the long list of names still waiting in queue, then. It happens when you try to set a meeting with arguably the most important man in the entire region.

His crabby mood eventually lifted by the time we arrived in front of the Baratie. The black BMW door was opened by a porter who instantly greeted Lord Newgate upon recognition, and as he entered the restaurant, I took the car a few blocks down the road where the nearby parking building was situated. After paying the valet, I began to leisurely stroll through a brightly lit avenue, making a slight adjustment to the collar of my coat since it grew slightly chilly outside.

What I would notice about the Baratie was its location—smartly chosen and very scenic. The very heart of Grand Line City was its large commercial district which stretched from Red Line Bridge all the way to Alabasta Square where all the major banks were situated. Somewhere in the middle was Sabaody Road, the high-end hotspot for businessmen, professionals, and a lot of rich tourists, and tonight, like all other nights, this place was overcrowded with them.

Behind the glass windows of large boutiques were a line of designer clothes, bags and sparkling diamond jewelries, and these caught the eyes of a number of women who'd pause mid-stride to gauge their worth. Large groups of people crossed the pedestrian walk towards a certain direction, probably heading towards the Skypeia Malls which was still several blocks down, and as I waited by the sidewalk, I noticed tourists emerging from the doors of a nearby hotel, filing in two straight lines towards a double-decker bus. Down the road was a chain of restaurants and bars, including the bar that I often frequented during my off days, and when I passed it, I noticed people gathered inside this time, eyes glued to the large screen TV where a football game was currently ongoing. Eventually, I found myself in front of the largest and grandest looking restaurant which resembled a ship with large thick masts, three decks and a large fish as its head. It looked ready to set sail, just sitting by the river that separated Grand Line from East Blue City, and it welcomed its guests with lights, music and a giant wooden cutting board where "The Baratie" was printed in neat script.

The next thing I would notice was that the owner of the restaurant, _Monsieur _Blackleg, was a proud French man at heart, and he took the liberty in making his restaurant as French as possible. Inside, the Baratie looked like a French opera house, reminiscent of the one in the Phantom of the Opera, and its ceiling—where a glass chandelier hung—was painted with fresco to depict a picturesque blue sky. The work of art featured baby cherubim sitting on the clouds, carrying baskets of fish and watching the diners below, as if in innocent curiosity. On the champagne-colored walls were imitations of works from the Louvre and candid photographs of scenes in both Paris and the countryside, decked out alongside with the number of news clippings, magazine articles, reviews and awards that the Baratie had received over the years. Vases of fresh irises were placed on every table, and in the back balcony, people enjoyed a garden of them while having candlelight dinners by the riverside. These tables were attended to by the waiters who spoke French so well, it was as if proficiency in the language was the number one requirement for the job, and right now, they were busy taking orders and serving a full house of customers that sat in anticipation for their meals. The restaurant may as well have proudly displayed the French flag, if not for the reason that it would have ostentatiously looked out of place.

It was a proud five-star restaurant and the most lucrative out of the circle of restaurants aligned with Whitebeard Corporations, but Lord Newgate wasn't here to talk about the restaurant's finances or for a casual dinner with its owner. Word was received that the Blackleg Family just received information about the Krieg Family, and _Monsieur _Blackleg, head of the most secretive family in the international criminal underground, was more than willing to share this to his closest ally and older family cousin.

Seeing that Lord Newgate was nowhere in sight, I began towards the near-empty bar area. Tonight, an orchestra of string instruments was playing in center stage, accompanying a man who sang a French ballad with a voice as rich and as smooth as velvet. I took my seat on the stool and was almost surprised to see who was tending the bar.

"So, from sous-chef in training to barkeep? How's the demotion coming along?"

Sanji snorted at my comment, and he took a swig of his red wine before answering coolly, "Very funny. I can enjoy a wine break, can't I?" When I shrugged my shoulders and answered sure, he placed down his wine glass and took a cocktail shaker plus a few drinks. A moment later, he passed me a glass of fresh Piña Colada on the rocks.

"The usual for _Monsieur_ Pineapple Head, on the house."

"Very funny," I took the glass and raised it to take a sip, "But, thanks." It tasted great. Just the right amount of tangy sweetness and alcohol, and the ice just made it even more refreshing, "How was school? I heard from Ace that _you _had an interesting day. Hope the sauce doesn't stain the shirt."

"For your sass, I'm changing my mind about treating you, you know," Sanji scowled as he leaned against the bar, continuing on his wine, "And speaking of Ace, I didn't see him a while ago when Uncle Edward arrived. Far as I know, we don't have homework, yet."

"He's running a few errands right now. Not sure if he'll make it tonight."

"What kind of errands?"

"Collecting some money debt and then meeting up with someone. Claims to know something about his brother."

"Eight years? Nine years of searching, and he's still at it? He's dedicated. I'll give him that."

"Not sure if it's dedication or just pure stubbornness." At that, Sanji ended up laughing, but before he could make any comment about that, the booming voice of a familiar man shouted.

"Sanji! Break's over, bastard! We have a large group of _paying_ customers, and they need food!"

Sanji rolled his eyes, muttering something in French before gulping down the last of his wine. He excused himself, left behind the kitchen doors, and shortly after, Patty and Carne took his place in the bar area.

"Piña Colada as usual," Patty narrowed his eyes towards my glass, "Did Sanji just treat you?"

"Stingy as ever, Patty."

"And, snarky as always, Phoenix. Don't forget to tip."

"Great to see you, Marco," the smaller man, Carne, said good naturedly, "Lord Newgate and _Monsieur _Blackleg are already settled in one of the meeting rooms." I took another sip from my drink and nodded. Then, gaze shifting from left to right, Carne leaned closer and uttered in a low voice, "Our man was correct?"

"Verified with our own sources. This 'Gin' person really did his tracking research."

Patty snorted. "Bastard's a sneaky one. He knows his way around. So, what? Going to kill the son of a bitch while he's still digging through snow?"

"That's the plan the moment we found out Blue Jam's location. We've already sent a team after his trail."

It's been a week since the meeting, only a few days since Whitney and a few others left for Russia, and still no news of Blue Jam's death. Sources said that Blue Jam intended to leave Moscow for one of the backwater regions of Russia, and one could guess that that was where the Krieg Family currently operated. It was either he changed direction or he was now in hiding. We may even have been misled.

But, my hopes weren't dampened, yet. If anything, it only fueled into more painful longing. I had to be patient, I told myself, and every night, Whitney would remind me this. I remembered each of her promises.

"_You'll be the one to deliver the final blow_. _I promise,_" she spoke soothingly over the phone the other night, "_Patience, love. These things take time, but when it comes, the wait will be worth it. You—we—will have revenge." _

I slid the empty glass towards Carne along with a couple of bills for tip. This seemed to have satisfied Patty who immediately scooped them up and began counting. There was a greedy glint in his eyes.

"I'm guessing there are updates from your associates. _Monsieur _Blackleg called on a short notice, and Lord Newgate cancelled one of his late-night office meetings just for this," I said.

"It's a secret among the _Monsieur_, Lord Newgate and our sources," Carne answered, "But, what I can tell you is what I know—and that's what's happening in Europe as we speak. Trouble's brewing."

"So, I've heard. Vista brought up the topic for discussion during breakfast."

"You're aware of what's going on."

"Slightly," I admitted, causing utter shock in Patty's and Carne's expressions, "I had to leave the conversation early. Business to attend to for Lord Newgate, and I had to bring Ace to school."

Patty looked like he was ready to smack my head, but restraining himself, probably because of my generous tip, he smacked his own. "Bastard! Of all the things to miss out—" he paused before his voice got too loud, looked to and fro, and then hissed, "Well, what do you know so far, then?"

"A warehouse bombing, the police discovery of an illegal smuggling unit plus a string of nighttime murders and disappearances that started ever since the heir of a Spanish mafia family suddenly vanished without a trace. There seems to be a secret turf war going on." Vista was always in the know about current events in Spanish Underground.

Carne nodded in agreement. "The Corazon Family. One of the very old and powerful mafia families still living today."

"What else, then? Have you heard of what's happened in Russia? In England?" Patty raised an eyebrow.

"Afraid not. I must have left at that point." I mused on it, but all I could think of were a few things. Russia? Blue Jam. England? Was Lord Newgate aware?

Out of habit, Patty jerked his head, searching again for any eavesdroppers before he began. "Well, let me tell you. The Bartholomew Family? Dead. All of them. Went on a trip to Russia, but just as they were emerging from their private plane—" He made a gesture of a gun pointing towards his own head and the invisible pull of a trigger with a flick of his wrist.

The Bartholomew Family? We've had a few dealings with them in the past, and they were a small but respectable sort to be considered small-time allies from Portugal. "A possible vendetta? It happens." After all, the respectable ones always had their enemies hiding.

"Possibly, but you know what's funny? And, this is where you have to remember the Corazon Family. No one—and I mean _no one_—has found the body of Kuma Bartholomew, heir of that Family. It's like he vanished into thin air, too."

"And, in England?"

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Whitehorse Family."

"We only deal with them if necessary." The Whitehorse Family was a rival of the Newgate Family for power in English Underground, but a minor one at that, and our relationship with them was rather "colorful." If Lord Newgate called them "fresh upstarts," Lord Whitehorse called us "ambitious despots." When Lord Newgate would create a successful venture, Lord Whitehorse would call him a "thief among thieves." If a connection is secured, they come out with more connections to boast. When Lord Newgate would host a party, Lord Whitehorse would not attend out of spite, only to organize an even "grander" party soon after and to his major expense. All of this to the good humor of Lord Newgate who even made the Whitehorse Family the butt of his jokes to some of his allies.

Well, if something had happened to the Whitehorse Family, I wouldn't see Lord Newgate angered. He'd only care to gloat behind offered "support."

"They might have bitten more than they could chew this time," Carne said, shaking his head, "To make enemies out of the Spanish mafia."

"What did they do?"

"Well, to their defense, their Heir was attacked, just like the others, and they acted within their rights. Luckily for them, Cavendish Whitehorse wasn't kidnapped, but they found that the abductor spoke in Spanish. From there, they drew conclusions."

Big mistake. "That's like accusing the yakuza because the assassin happened to be Japanese, and you know the local yakuza wants nothing to do with the mafia."

"Perhaps, a mistake from their sources or one side has to be lying. Well, you know, the Whitehorse Family is unpopular among some families, and I suppose some are trying to take advantage of the mess in Spain to get rid of them. That's just business. Now, it looks like the Italian mafia are backing up some of the Spanish due to some marriage ties and existing alliances."

Patty snorted. "The poor bastards. Since Lord Newgate has Italian blood, now's a good time to call on you guys—"

"Trust me. We're probably their _last _resort." And, even if the Whitehorse Family went down on their knees, I sincerely doubted whether Lord Newgate would act if the costs overweighed potential benefits, and the effort would be seen as "unprofitable." _Especially _if the Italians were involved. It meant dealing with the rest of the Allerick-Marcellino line. Loyalties and old familial ties would be strained.

Carne blinked. "I heard they're trying to seek the protection and counsel from the Dracule Family—"

"_Mon Dieu_, are they crazy?" Patty burst into laughter, "Of all families! They're better off getting favors from polishing Lord Newgate's shoes!" He wiped a tear that slid from his eye, "Carne, we all know that the Dracule Family _hates _the English."

"It's true," I added on a sour note. The Dracule Family was another powerful mafia, based on France, and our relationship with them was only civil because of our alliance with the Blackleg Family and also because the Dracule Family considered Lord Newgate—and _I quote_—"more Italian than a common Englishman in blood."

"Well," Carne shrugged, "Perhaps, one from their previous generations married a Dracule which is usually a good reason—"

"And, that Dracule must have been chopped off the family tree! That's what happens when a Dracule marries an English! Besides, how can they?" Patty paused in his laughter, his face turned pallid, and his lower lip quivered as if he remembered something terrible, "I mean—that is to say—after what has happened—!" He suddenly broke into French.

Not understanding, I glanced at Carne who adopted the same expression. "And, what a scandal! Terrible news!" Then, he looked at me, eyes widening and whispering several tones down, "In fact, Sanji does not know this, but his cousin—the Heir of the Dracule Family—h-he'll be arriving next week!"

I began to rub my temple. "You two aren't making much sense. So, is the Dracule Family trying to take precautions for the Heir?"

But, Carne shook his head. "Yes, but it's more than just a security issue, Marco. There's a story behind it—a huge scandal of some incredible sort which—that's your phone, isn't it?"

Indeed, it was. The tone grew increasingly louder as it began to vibrate on my pocket, as if angry that I've been ignoring it instead of picking up immediately. After excusing myself from the two chefs, I pressed the receiver button and placed the phone behind my ear.

It was Vista.

"Marco—" and he was short out of breath as he spoke, "We've been compromised." His breathing was ragged, and I could only imagine—_he must have been shot. _

I gripped the handle of my cellphone. "Where's Ace?"

"Knocked out… chloroform—they tried to sell him out—"

"Vista, where are you now?"

But, he didn't answer. The last thing I heard was a string of gunshots fired, and immediately, the line went dead. I tried to call back, but there was no answer. I tried again, but then I received another call.

"I'm on my way to Impel Down," Izou said even before I could produce a word, "Juzo went ahead. We're tracing signals from Ace's and Vista's phones. Squado told me that they're still together." So, Vista called Izou first, didn't he? Of course.

"Keep monitoring them and hurry," one look from me had Patty nodding towards Carne, "Vista thinks they're after Ace. I'll inform Lord Newgate quickly."

No more words were exchanged. Izou hung up, and I followed Carne towards the second floor where Lord Newgate usually held his meetings with _Monsieur _Blackleg. My legs carried me, marching fast, but my mind was already running a marathon as different thoughts began to wrestle with each other.

Punk Hazard, the stolen data, a video's hidden message, Blue Jam, heirs of powerful families suddenly disappearing and the sudden rise of turf wars—it's like what Haruta said. There were just _too _many coincidences happening at the same time that they couldn't be just mere coincidences at all. There had to be a connection somewhere, and at the rate this was going, all of these signs could only boil down to one person.

Don Krieg.

~*~ Omake ~*~

-Haruta and Ace sitting down with looks of concentration while playing a game of chess-

Ace: -seemingly at the point of giving up as he moves his knight- Check.

Haruta: -quickly moves her queen and knocks down the king- And, check mate!

Ace: Oh, come on! Fifty four straight wins to zero?!

Haruta: -giggles- If it makes you feel any better, Young Master, you're slowly reaching Lord Newgate's level!

Ace: You beat him in about fifteen moves. With me, less than ten. Seriously, how did you get so good?

Haruta: Well, I practice a lot.

Ace: Really? With who?

Haruta: Marco.

Ace: Marco? He plays chess? With _you_?

Haruta: He's just deadly.

_In actual reality…_

-crashing sounds and angry, frustrated screams heard across the halls-

Izou and Whitney: -running towards the noise until they spot Juzo watching Haruta in her rampage-

Izou: What's happening here?!

Juzo: Well, Haruta was just playing chess against herself again, and she spent about 59 minutes on a stalemate, but she broke out of it when she somehow managed to outsmart her own tactics, and now she's lost one pawn before completing the one hour mark. And, you know, whenever something wrong happens, she just blames—

Haruta: STUPID PINEAPPLE, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! –blindly throws chessboard, and Izou and Juzo had to dodge this-

Whitney: -unaffected- Aww, Haruta can't stop thinking of my precious pineapple, and she just wants to spend time with him! I know exactly how she feels! Ten minutes, and I miss him already…

Juzo: –pulls out a video camera-

Izou: Okay. Juzo, what are you _doing_?

Juzo: Taking a video documentary. I already have a title—"The Newgate Manor: Secret Files." Should I do some epic Russell Crowe narrating or should I do something like a Samuel Jackson impersonation? What about Morgan Freeman?

Izou: Juzo. I _think_ you should go in there and help her or—if you don't want to—call for actual help? Do something useful? Maybe an appointment with a therapist, even? I mean, let's face it, Haruta's a special case of—

Whitney: Izumi! How could you say that? I don't want my little Haruta to see some quack doctor who'd just take advantage of her! I think she's perfectly fine just the way she is!

Izou: On second thought, I think I'll schedule two appointments.

Juzo: Okay. But, first, let me finish this video.

Izou: And, _why_?

Juzo: So, the good ol' doc will know what he's dealing with.

Izou: …

Juzo: I'm just being nice that way. I don't want to be a douche bag about this.

Izou: -face palms- ... I _cannot _believe that I'm going to say this...

Izou: ... Carry on.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: This<strong> wouldn't be a rewrite if Juzo's randomness wasn't here. In my world, it is essential. :)) _

_Oh no. Ace is kidnapped? Apparently, in this rewrite, the Krieg Family **actually **accomplished that? Looks like there's more danger here. _

_So, this chapter is pretty much a more expanded version of Marco's chapter from the last version (but with more details, more exposition, more intensity and a smarter writing style)._ _I already like Marco's "dark side" from the last version (and I know that he's also popular among many of my reviewers), so I thought I'd already establish that early on. Of course, more to come. I've always enjoyed the theme of insanity in my stories (and it's funny because I'm a psychology major). Dear Lord. _

_Also, a message from my favorite French boy here, Sanji: **Je Suis Charlie. **_

_It's an odd coincidence that the chapter I'm posting this week involves some mentions of terrorism and other related plots. And, I know from my Story Stats that I have a number of people from France who reads this fan fiction, so here's my way of expressing my solidarity to those who are affected in any way by the tragedy. :( _

_Also, next chapter in 2 weeks again! Dropping reviews will be very much appreciated! :D _


	4. Ambiguity

**_Author's Note: _**_So, before I start, the usual review answering. :)  
><em>_  
><strong>TheCaptainOfShips<strong>: Well, it's Shanks' chapter, and it's Luffy-centric, so yay? :))__  
><em>

_**Jiejie**: All mentioned in my PM to you... But, I STILL need an answer: Would you actually play Mafia Music if I were to post a chapter from the POV of the Baddies? :))) _

**_Disclaimer: _**_Nope, I don't own One Piece. Otherwise, Teach and Akainu would have already found a nice spot in Hell. :) _

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Four: Ambiguity ~ Shanks ~<em>

"Please, I really need to talk to him in person."

"I don't think—"

"Fifteen minutes," I cut in between, "I'm asking at least fifteen minutes."

Behind the line, the calm yet stern voice of a woman—fairly young, I could tell; probably around her late twenties—spoke, "I'm sorry, Mr. Akagami, but Lord Newgate is not available. He's already booked for several office meetings today. Have you tried to schedule an appointment with him yet?"

I drummed my fingers against the table twice, mentally drawing up a list of smart answers I could use, but I knew I had to be honest about it. This woman could probably peek into the flimsy seams of any bullshit I'd give her. I had to be careful.

"No, not yet, but this is something urgent and that's why I need to see him. I can't explain it over the phone. It's a really complicated matter."

"And, that can all be squeezed into fifteen minutes?"

"Believe me. I won't be the one extending." I could imagine the woman frowning now, sensing the ambiguity in my words as she began to calculate her next response.

My fingers drummed a couple times more on the armrest now as I shifted on my seat. In front of me, the breakfast that I ordered for room service seemed far less appetizing now compared to yesterday. The meat was more dry than tender, and my sunny side-ups were a tad bit too runny for my liking. I couldn't even consider the coffee "fresh" anymore after it lost its steam.

"You said that you're a government social worker?"

"That's about right. Child welfare and custody."

Beside the large tray of food was a small photo of Luffy, one that I recall taking several years ago. Even in captured film, that contagious smile of his was still there—always optimistic, silently expressing hope for bright days to last forever. He wouldn't be Luffy without it.

And, if someone told Luffy months ago that he'd be orphaned soon, he probably would have laughed it off. That's what he tried to do the first time I told him Old Man Garp was dead.

"I can try and schedule for you an appointment with him," the woman offered politely, "Or would you like to call back at a later time?"

"I'll just call back. Thanks, anyway." What was the point even? His choice of business involved a strategically built system of networks and associates based on advantage, and his natural business acumen invested time only to offers that promised huge gains and less costs. Edward Newgate was notorious for his shrewdness, and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd easily write me off for his least priority list. I probably wouldn't meet the man until the next month or two. After hanging up, I placed the phone back on its handle with a despondent sigh.

This was going to be impossible.

I tried to focus on my breakfast, but after a few measly bites, I couldn't stomach the eggs any more than the steak which felt like hard rubber grinding against my teeth. So, I threw down my napkin, folded my utensils and pulled out my cellphone to re-read the message that has been currently driving my mind on edge since receiving it earlier this morning.

_You're due for England next week. I hope you already contacted Newgate like you said you would. _

Akainu, the bloody wanker. I'm not The Stork. I couldn't just _drop _Luffy in front of Newgate's mansion and just carry on my own way. But, of course, compassion was a foreign word to him. All he ever knew was a vicious sense of "justice" and a cold efficiency that would make Machiavelli proud.

_We need more time_. _It's hard enough to meet Newgate as it is. Think of Luffy, too. His grandfather just died, he came from an operation, and he's still trying to adjust after leaving his home. I haven't even told him about his adoption plan. _

I downed my ice-cold coffee in a few gulps, and just as I finished, the message tone of my cellphone went off. It was from Akainu. Critically responsive, as always.

_We do not have the luxury of time_. _Do what you have to do and nothing else._

Bullocks. I wake up, and my phone had to be that callous reminder of what I had to do. I set it on silent before placing it on the table, as far away from me as possible with the screen faced down.

No. This wasn't just bullocks. This was bullshit. Absolute and pure, utter bullshit, but in the end, I had to admit—Akainu was right. There's no time, not that the organization would be generous enough to give it. Starting from Garp's murder to what's been happening in Europe lately, they wanted the job to be done as quickly as possible, and the only one who has to pay the price was Luffy. Garp's already gone. No one could protect him any longer.

And, if I didn't know any better, it was people like Akainu who wanted me out of the picture, too. Just to make sure.

I sunk back on my seat, ruffling my hair which I already knew was a shaggy red mess at this point. On the back of my head was an irritable sensation, equivalent to an invisible needle prickling my skin in quick and measured strikes until the pain felt relentless. Closing my eyes, I ignored this, but instead of facing a deep, dark abyss of nothingness, I could see the image of Luffy standing before me, and he felt so much more than a mere figment of my imagination.

Well, bloody hell. Even his smile looked real.

* * *

><p>If there's anything that I know Luffy loves, it's meat. Cajun steak, suckling pig, lamb chops, pork ribs—you name it, he's probably eaten it, and it's only because of his crazy metabolism that I wasn't too worried over chances of a future heart attack.<p>

The next thing I knew about Luffy is that he loves burgers, especially the ones that he could customize on order. It's simple, really. All he'd do was stack up a tower of burger patties on the bun, leave out the vegetables, and top it all off with squares of cheddar and a load of sauces. Sometimes, he'd throw in extra bacon or caramelized onions if he felt like it. Reckoned that it would be a brilliant idea to bring him to one of the best burger joints in the city for dinner, and this happened to be a good call because I could see Luffy chatting while gobbling up his fresh off the grill burger along with a large side of fries.

In contrast, my burger was depressingly plain with the cheese slapped on top of the typical burger-lettuce-tomato combination. The grease was oozing out from the one bite that I've barely managed to swallow along with the layers of catsup and mayo that dripped onto my plate. This place felt overrated, probably reviewed by big shot food critics that rode the latest trends—or maybe it's just my lack of hunger speaking. Didn't Yasopp tell me that I've lost some weight when I arrived? He blamed it on stress. _Oh, he__ cannot imagine..._

"Hey, Shanks. Are you listening?" Luffy pursed his lips in annoyance, but try as he could, his angry face always came out like a childish pout.

"Oh, sorry," I smiled sheepishly, taking another bite of my burger and chewing slowly, "I'm listening. Said something about your narcolepsy, am I right?"

"Yeah, and so anyway, after I woke up, Usopp got me out of the clinic and we headed back home before Curly Brow and Zoro could run after us."

"Sounds like you had a good day, then." Luffy nodded, and he resumed his meal which didn't take him too long to finish. The fries were cleared out after a moment, and only a few bread crumbs were left on his plate. He was slurping on the last of his root beer float, and I was about to ask if he was still hungry, but Luffy spoke first.

"Shanks, you're really thinking hard about something."

The look he gave me was a rare one, but I've seen it in the past. If memory served me right, it was when his best friend, Kidd—and out of all his rag-tag group of friends, I remember that one for his hot-blooded, fiery temper that did justice to the color of his hair—was admitted to the hospital after some gruesome brawl he and Luffy got involved in. Just like that time, Luffy wasn't smiling. His face was listless, but his eyes spoke for him, and they were pooled with genuine concern mixed with a touch of fear.

"You want any seconds?"

"I'm full already. I ate a lot in school today." Lying was never Luffy's forte, but he was a persistent little fellow. He wouldn't stop until he got answers, and before I knew it, I was backed up against the proverbial corner.

"Alright. I'll just wrap this burger to go, and then we can head out. I need to talk to you about something very important, but this isn't the right place." Luffy didn't speak. He only gestured a silent nod, and we both got up from our seats.

It was like Akainu said. I didn't have the luxury of time, and the more I tried to hide it, the more I was stalling. The harsh truth had to rear its ugly head eventually.

When we got inside the car, Luffy kept silent which was unnerving because he was _hardly_ a quiet guy, but then again, things had changed. He began those periods of brief silence ever since Garp died. Meanwhile, I was practically driving on auto-pilot while waiting for Luffy to say something. Anything. _Any _bloody damn thing.

"I'm going to miss you," my voice started feebly, "I have to head on back to England next week."

He made a small bow of his head as if resigned. Was he expecting that? "I'll wait for you to come back and visit me."

"Luffy, I need you to understand. You're not going to live alone."

"Let's call Dadan. I miss her already." I've already lost count of the number of times he asked for her.

"The agency already gave Dadan a new employer to serve, and she agreed to the new contract. You know that she needs work to support her family back in her home country. Leaving you, though, was hard on her part. She basically helped raise you."

"I know, but still."

"I'm working with child welfare and security. They need you to be under the care of a legal guardian."

"That's you," Luffy cut through quickly, decisively, "You're my legal guardian. Grandpa always said so. So, you're going to adopt me, right?" His eyes shone with expectation, silently begging me to say yes, and a part of me broke as I told him otherwise.

"I wouldn't receive a court approval. There are many requirements and standards that need to be met. Things like a proper home, financial security, family presence, parenting experience and background, and so much more—I can't promise you all of that, Lu, and what I really want is what's best for you."

"You don't have to promise me anything, Shanks. I know you love me, a-and I think that's what matters more than stupid court rules."

I didn't respond. Didn't know how to. My eyes were on the road, but my mind was somewhere else, wrapped around words of unconditional trust that Luffy's held for me after so many years. I would have laughed. I would have cried. I would have stopped the car in the middle of the road and pulled Luffy into the biggest embrace I could ever give him. But, that's all in the past. All that's left was the silence and the vibe of disappointment and hurt that echoed from Luffy's words.

He trusted that I'd adopt him.

He trusted that I'd fight for him.

He trusted that I'd go against all odds for his sake when no one else would.

He trusted that I'd actually try.

The worst part was that I didn't, and it bothered me even more if he _still _trusted me after this.

That conversation was doomed from the start, and for the rest of the ride, the mutual silence between us signaled how the both of us were treading around a thin and fragile line. Even when we arrived in front of the apartment building—after minutes that I've already lost track of—Luffy didn't step out of the car. He just remained on his seat without a word. It was like he was never there at all.

"Honestly, Lu, I don't want to do this—" But, I didn't have the courage to speak to him directly. I found the face of my wheel more open to listen. "This is hard for me, too."

"If it's not you, then I don't want to be adopted." There was a small choke between his words. I didn't have to look at him to know that tears were threatening to flood—_if_ they haven't fallen yet. "I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be. You'll love your new family just as much as they'll love you. Your new Dad? He'll spoil you rotten."

A pair of arms desperately clung to me like a lifeline. Beside me, Luffy was fighting against the restraints of his seatbelt as he tried to close the distance between us, and I saw red, puffy eyes that had the power to snap my heart in two.

"I don't care, S-Shanks... You're my only family left. D-Don't leave me, too…!" Say whatever I wanted, I knew that Luffy would be anything but convinced. After his last word, he finally broke into a sob, and before I knew it, I was the one holding him close to wipe away those salty tracks of tears.

"If it means anything to you," I uttered feebly, "You're going to have an older brother. He'll love you. He'll make sure you're never alone."

"N-No! I-I don't want that…! If—If that happens, I want a family with a little brother! N-No… I don't want any brother at all!" Arms furled even tighter, and I nearly froze from the bitter demandingness laced in his words as he shook his head furiously.

"Luffy—"

"I don't want anyone else! No one can't be _him_! No one can ever be _him_! Only Ace is _my _brother!"

"I know."

After the quiet admittance, Luffy continued to sob in my arms, and as I worked on rubbing soothing circles around his back to ease his comfort, I kept my eyes on the cellphone lying on the dashboard. The soft glow of the screen was signaling to me another message.

* * *

><p>"Well, I told him."<p>

"And, I'm guessing it didn't go so well."

"I don't know if I approached it the right way or not. I'm not parent material, Yasopp. You're better than me at this."

Behind the line, I could hear Yasopp sigh. "Shanks. No matter how you approach it, you know that he's not going to take it well. No one likes a separation, especially Luffy. You of all people know that. In fact, I remember telling Garp a long time ago that Luffy should have some form of counseling."

"I know his phobia over dark rooms is clinical, but as long as he has a night light—"

"Shanks. Admit it. It's not obvious but on top of his phobia, the kid has some form of separation anxiety that dates back to the time he lost his brother. I really should have been more insistent with Garp. I mean, look at him. In the outside, he seems okay, but can you say he'll really _function_ after finding out that you're leaving him at a time like this? Then, there's that thing with the higher-ups—does Luffy even _know _who's adopting him? Might have helped if he knew."

The driver of the car behind me was undergoing a case of road rage, judging from the angry sounds of his car horn. Must have overtook him without warning. It's a wonder how none of the policemen haven't pulled me over for driving while on the phone, but at this point, I didn't give a flying fuck whether one did or if I got ran over by a truck. Nothing could possibly make me feel even worse than shit at this point.

"Damn it, Yasopp. I'm getting a drink. I'll call Ben and Lucky. You up for it?"

"Sorry, Shanks," Yasopp said, sounding grim, "Lucky and I are being called on duty. Something just came up at Impel Down. The higher-ups would probably call you and Ben in, too. They're thinking that a huge wrench has been thrown into the plan."

"A huge wrench, huh? First of all, that's a shady area, mate. What _doesn't _come up over there?"

"Two cases of arson and an earlier shootout, all in one night. A number of men were burned alive inside a warehouse, and a car in a different location has been set on fire, too."

"Got names?"

"Not yet, but our men already surveyed the affected areas for evidence. None. Not even the plate number of the destroyed car was found. It's like someone took it or rather—it's like someone didn't want to be found."

I snorted. "The police must be running out of men if they're asking us to go and investigate for them."

"I thought so, too," Yasopp paused slightly before adding, "But, we caught a witness, and he claimed to have seen Newgate's son."

"He's saying he caused it?"

"No. He's saying he might have been kidnapped."

~*~ Omake ~*~

Shanks: -grumbling while tossing aside a crumpled piece of paper- "It is imperative that you speak to Newgate," The Oh-So-Great Akainu says. "You are to use this phone number," Word of God says. "No time to be wasted," Admiral Stone Face says. What's wrong with the number I already have?

Shanks: -picks up the phone and dials the number from the yellow pages-

Receiver: -picks up after a few dial rings- Hello.

Shanks: Hello! Yes, good afternoon, my name is Mr. Aka—

Receiver: Thank you for calling Newgate Manor. If you'd like to make an inquiry regarding services from Whitebeard Corporation, press 1. For the Baratie or other member restaurants of The Grand Line Gourmet Circle, press 2. For car services and repairs from Galley-La Company, press 3. For information, events and services from the Skypeia Malls, press 4. For details and information regarding the upcoming grand opening of Buster Call Satellite, New Japan's newest telephone network, cable and internet service provider, press 5. For other key businesses under the Newgate Conglomerate, press 6. For "special" services, press 7.

Shanks: -presses 7-

Receiver: Thank you for inquiring about our "Special Services." If this is about Sir Edward Newgate the Third, press 1. If this is about Young Master Asch Edward Newgate the Second, press 2. Press 0 if none of the above apply.

Shanks: -presses 2-

Shanks: Thank you for inquiring about our "Special Services" regarding Young Master Asch Edward Newgate the Second. If you are his friend, please dial 1 or contact him via cellphone, email or social media. If you are another fan and you would like to praise the Young Master, please dial 2. If you are requesting for his appearance in another interview talk show or any other form of media, please dial 3. If you are trying to get permission for some activity that may potentially damage his reputation, please dial 4. If you are calling because you're having problems trying to add the Young Master's Facebook Page in your Page Likes, please dial 5. If you are—

Shanks: … Blimey. –pours himself a drink while waiting-

-nearly half an hour later-

Receiver: If you are asking for permission to take a selfie with the Young Master, please dial 2167. If you are asking for permission to—

Shanks: -already on his fourth bottle of rum- Okay, you have _got _to be pulling my leg here!

Receiver: If you are an acquaintance with other concerns, please dial 2169. If you are an acquaintance who wants to speak with Sir Edward Newgate the Third regarding the Young Master, please dial 0.

Shanks: -rage pressing 0 continuously until he is satisfied-

Receiver: The input you have made is invalid. Your call has been reset.

Shanks: WHAT?

Receiver: Hello. Thank you for calling Newgate Manor. If you'd like to make an inquiry—

Shanks: -slams down phone- GODDAMMIT, THIS BLOODY WANKER IS SCREWING WITH ME LIKE A BASTARD—-insert explicit rage-

Juzo: -sniggering while putting down the phone and closing the tape recorder-

Shanks: … -after some time, he bends down and uncrumples the note from Akainu-

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I really hate those voice messages. :)) Especially if you make the wrong mistake. _

_Anyway, yeah, I know... it's seems shorter than the "usual" that I make, but it's somewhat of a build-up chapter. Next chapter is going to be long, just to make up for this. _

_And... the bad news? All of you might have to wait for three weeks. The college workload is already piling up to the max, so I need to set time for my other priorities. :)) Don't worry! I'll make sure the next chapter (Whitebeard / Edward Newgate's) will be worth the wait. Definitely one of my favorite re-written chapters. It's got action, angst and heartwarming family moments all in one good package. _

_Speaking of rewrite, let me get to Shanks... He is probably the most REWRITTEN character in this... rewrite. He sort of lost his purpose in the original which I am trying to avoid this time. Well, in the original, I did plan for him to make a huge come back, but then I thought "I should keep this guy consistent." So, voila. Shanks 2.0. If you're up for a more concerned, more active Shanks, then you'll probably like this._

He won't be seen as often as some other characters, but he works behind the scenes, and I'd like to think that he's going to play a more crucial role in this story.

_And, I like Shanks. I feel that I need to redeem him somehow. :)) _

_So, until 3 weeks from now! Life and all. _

_Drop a review if you can! :) _


	5. Father and Son

**_Author's Note: _**_Well, school's been murdering me, but so far, I'm surviving. I seriously **cannot** wait until my vacation comes in. Then, I'll have so much free time **plus **time dedicated to this story. Huhu, summer, please come in. Okay, anyway, since I gave you a three week delay, here's the long chapter that you're all waiting for! :) _

_**TheCaptainOfShips**: Is it a good thing that I managed to make you cry with last chapter? Haha! Yay and I'm sorry? :))_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Nope, I don't own anything except for plot... and even that is debatable because originality is debatable nowadays. Thank you, TvTropes. _

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Five: Father and Son ~ Edward Newgate ~<em>

If there was one thing that hasn't changed over the years, it was that Krieg knew how to work quickly. Corazon's heir, Bartholomew's, Whitehorse's, possibly Dracule's—and now, Ace. It was just as Zeff was warning me.

And, if there was anything that the bastard should have learned from the last time, it was that I could be his worst enemy. Hurt even a hair from Ace's head, and there would be absolute _hell _to pay.

"Coordinates have been sent through Squado," Marco said, checking through his phone before passing me the screen, "Vista's not moving, but Ace is going at a fast pace. He must be inside some vehicle."

It was the most plausible guess. A zoomed in, grid-like map version of the city's landscape showed two flashing dots with one remaining stationary while the other was on the move. The further away it went, the louder my mental alarms rang, and all I could think about were the possibilities. Was Vista dead? Critically wounded? What about Ace? What are they doing to him? Where are they taking him?

Zeff and Sanji were still at each other's throats. In _French_. The younger blonde had just burst into the room earlier, and whatever he said was enough to send the man's blood boiling in a mere matter of seconds. I may not know French completely, but I could pick up on the context. After one last spat from Zeff, Sanji swore out loud before storming out, fuming red on his cheeks. Before I could even say anything, Zeff turned to me sharply, hand raised.

"I don't want to hear it, Edward. If that was your eggplant, you'd probably tell him the same thing." I didn't deny it. Despite all of Sanji's noble intentions, rescuing Ace right now was too dangerous, and my cousin was quite right on the matter.

"Demalo Black," just the name itself tasted like bitter acid on my tongue, "How likely is it that he's involved with Krieg?"

"Black knows that he owes you money, and if he was lucky, you'd send Ace to collect the debt like you usually would. I'm not surprised. Slimy rat would do anything for money if that's what he's being offered. But, I never thought he'd double cross you. Krieg must have made a big offer."

I cursed under my breath, the table trembling upon the heavy weight of my fist. Just whose fault was it? On the one hand, I was furious at Black, but on the other hand, I couldn't help but blame myself. It could happen all over again. My mistake, my fault, and I could lose another son.

No, I wouldn't allow it. This wasn't going to be a repeat of the last time. _Never again. _

"Edward, I think I know where they're heading," Zeff said, a frown marring his features as he studied the coordinates that Marco handed to him, "The abandoned Smile Factories. I have informants who may know his hideout's location there."

"Some of his lackeys may be in there, too."

"We'll knock out the bastards, then."

"Right. Have your men teargas the lot of them before Black arrives. You throw them off guard, and then I'll have my men handle the rest."

With that said, Zeff turned to Carne, and the two began speaking in rapid French until the younger chef rushed out of the room. Marco followed, phone pressed against his ear as he was relaying orders, and I immediately proceeded to grab my coat from the nearby rack.

Zeff no longer saw me to the exit. What with managing the busiest restaurant in the city while also directing orders to a few chosen among his associates, I didn't expect him to, and I told him that I'd hurry on my way. Time was of the essence. The moment Marco arrived outside the restaurant with the car, I hastily got in and told him to drive as fast as he could, speed limits be damned.

I did, however, manage to catch Sanji. He was still in a foul mood, practically sulking behind the bar, if the large glass of wine and that concentrated look towards his cellphone were any indications.

* * *

><p>We made it, but just barely. Vista was now being sent to undergo an abdominal surgery in Grand Line Hospital which belonged to the Trafalgars who were willing to deploy their best trauma team to carry out the operation—for a hefty sum. That's what Marco gathered from Squado over the phone. Izumi was too disoriented to even speak. As tough-minded as she was, a part of her must have cracked upon seeing her lover lying in a pool of his own blood.<p>

"It's a pity that it has to come to this." Of course, _someone _has to pay dearly for this. An eye for an eye, as they always say.

This old, rundown warehouse was practically a common junkyard on the inside. Stacks of large crates and barrels towered against the metal plate walls along with the piles of individual scrap metal and car parts that I reckon were stolen at different points in time. There was even a car—or at least, what was once a car—that had been stripped off its wheels, engine and other essentials until all that was left was just its rusted skeleton. But, the disorder that really irked me came from that pigsty of a lounge—_if it should even be called one!_ All over the floor, I could see crushed cans of beer, a scattered array of playing cards, _mahjong _pieces and checkers, and ashtrays that were overflowing with burnt cigarette ends. Most of these surrounded a dilapidated telly that lacked a few buttons and moth-eaten armchairs that I would not even dare to sit on. Then, there's that _blasted _stench that I couldn't even begin to describe! The idea that those _pigs_ brought Ace in here was more than a mere insult.

Now, the men Zeff hired did an excellent job in raiding the place. Everyone was rendered unconscious from the potent gas, save for some who needed to be knocked out in the more _painful _manner. They were tied up and gagged, all with the exception of Demalo Black who was still conscious and struggling against the ropes that bound him to his seat. But then his movements froze, eyes practically shaking when Juzo pressed a gun against his temple.

"P-Please don't…! Please don't sh-shoot me…!" he begged feebly, sweating bullets now.

"Why, I ought to. You shot my subordinate." Excellent. A large, decent enough chair for me to rest on. Although not as comfortable-looking as I'd like it to be, it would have to do. I had a feeling that this may take a while. Depends on how long it would take for this filth to crack, really.

"I-I-I didn't shoot him! I swear! I-I didn't…! It was one of my men, he—!"

"One of _your _men, and before I finish dealing with you, I will ask you to point to me the one that you're referring to." His incessant wailing only served to hurt my ears even more after Juzo smacked his face with the side of his gun_. _"Forgetting to pay off a debt, I can forgive for a time. Shooting one of my most trusted men? Kidnapping my son? You must have some death wish, Black."

"M-Mercy! Mercy!" A sudden gunshot from the background caused Black to release a terrified scream, but neither brain matter nor blood splattered across the room. The bullet had missed him by a hair's width, and from where I stood, I could hear it ricochet against one of the metal walls.

Juzo, who still had the man at gunpoint, looked surprised. He then let out a light whistle. "Would hate to be you right now," he muttered to Black as I glanced over my shoulder.

To see that it was Izumi was both half-surprising and half-to-be-expected. She treaded towards us specter-like, her form shaking as her finger remained locked around the trigger. Specks of blood tainted her clothes, but I could spot the dried crimson flakes that coated her hands. A dark, burning glare made her look all the more menacing, along with the ruined mascara that smeared around the corners of her elven face—most likely due to her tears.

"The next time I shoot, I won't miss," she hissed dangerously. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The expression on her face was worth a thousand daggers, and it was more than enough to render Black immobile. "Mercy is the _least _you deserve." As if avoiding a deadly wild beast, Juzo instantly drew a safe distance away as the furious woman grabbed Black by a fistful of his hair, edging the gun mouth against his throat.

"W-Wait, no, please don't kill me, don't kill me, don't—I-I have a wife and—" There was another cry of pain as Izumi struck him with a painful slap that caused his bruise to darken further.

"**LIAR**! YOU BEAT YOUR WIFE TO DEATH AND SOLD OFF YOUR DAUGHTER A LONG TIME AGO, YOU SICK BASTARD, AND I'VE HEARD EXACTLY HOW MUCH OF A COWARD YOU ARE FROM THE MAN WHO YOU SHOT!** SO, DON'T LIE TO ME!" **

"I-I'm just—it wasn't! I-It was an order! An _order_!" This only earned him another harsh blow to the face.

"Of course, you were ordered," I said as I finally took my seat across him, "You had to be ordered because you don't strike me as someone intelligent enough to enact such an ambitious operation on your own accord—at least not without the promise of someone more powerful to back you up. You'd do well now to tell me exactly _who _gave you the order."

If this fat pig actually wanted to live, he was doing a terrible job trying to save himself. From pleading, a string of jumbled nonsense tumbled from his lips as fear continued to pool in his eyes, and Izumi would have struck him again if I hadn't been the one to stop her.

"Izumi, that is enough. We have methods for making our enemies talk." An uncharacteristically cruel smirk twisted on Izumi's features, and I began to wonder if years of an odd friendship with Whitney may have had an influence on her. From the sudden streaks of bloodlust and sadism driven by sheer overprotectiveness, I wouldn't doubt it.

It didn't take too long for Juzo to scavenge for a large tool box. Heaven knows where he must have found it among all the useless junk here, but the man has always been known to have quite the sharp eye. He brought it to Izumi who began rummaging through it with a gaze of meticulousness until she decided to pull out a sharp edged wood chisel. An excellent choice, in my opinion. Simple yet effective.

The Pig saw this and stammered, "W-What are you go-going to do?"

I couldn't manage to suppress my chuckle. I wasn't lying when I said that this entire ordeal was "pitiful." For Demalo Black, at least.

"Consider yourself quite fortunate. Normally, I would have my men bring more _effective _tools, but this meeting is very impromptu, and we'll have to make do with what we have. It seems that you're missing some pliers, but this chisel should do finely."

"W-Wait…! L-Let go…!" But, his struggling was useless, and Juzo made sure of it. He had the gun placed down now, and his firm grip was all it took to secure Black's fingers in place. Meanwhile, that cruel smirk never left Izumi's lips as she began to test the sharpness of the small tool, driving it against the side of the hostage seat. Small, curled wooden chips fell beside Black's feet with every soft scrape.

"Painful business, really—ripping out nails. I promise, though, that you should be able to survive it just like all the rest. Our methods have always been tried and tested." Shallow words, but they served their purpose. The chair began rocking as the Pig resisted, and it was only when Izumi had finally edged the chisel under a slightly bleeding finger nail did he break into pathetic sobs.

"S-STOP! S-STOP!H-HE ORDERED ME!H-HE ORDERED ME TO DO IT, AND I-I HAD TO! I HAD TO! DON'T…! DON'T, PLEASE! I'LL TELL YOU—I'LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING, JUST **DON'T!**"

_Finally. _I gestured Izumi and Juzo to pull back, chuckling once more. "Please. Do tell."

He sniveled, his face beet red, and I was partially disgusted by the way his snot dripped from that obscenely round nose of his. Truly, a fat pig in human's clothing. "Th-They… they call him 'The Pearl.' H-He made me do it…! 'The Pearl…!'"

"'The Pearl?'" The name didn't ring any bells. Probably wasn't _anyone _at all to me, and it was either he was some fresh upstart who had the gall to challenge my name in my own turf or he was a mere underling to a greater threat. My fortune wagered on the latter. It had to be Krieg.

"H-He tracked me down… He just did, a-and I didn't know how! T-Told me, 'You kidnap Newgate's son or I'll have you swimming with the fishes!' Th-That's what he told me! Th-Threatened me! T-Told me that it'd be _curtains_ if I didn't accept the job! _Curtains!_ H-He'd kill me if I-I didn't, a-and—and it was e-either do it or die!"

"And, what makes you think _we _wouldn't kill you?" Izumi spat, her words causing the man to yelp.

Years of experience taught me how to pick on even the subtlest hints of a lie, and he would have earned even the tiniest shred of my commendations had he not given such a blatant half-truth. I knew just how this filthy pig's mind ticked. Threats alone weren't enough. Common criminals are such shallow men, running after the tangible rewards rather than greater aspirations.

"And, tell me—how much money did 'The Pearl' offer you?"

"W-What?"

A flat-out denial. The way he suddenly shifted on his seat was a dead giveaway, along with that prominent lump on the side of his pocket which I happened to have noticed just now. I had Juzo take out the object in question—a black wallet, seemingly made of expensive Italian leather. The shine in the smooth material plus the rich perfumed scent told me that he bought this just recently.

"How much is in there, Juzo?"

"A lot, Sir. All by the ten thousands." he answered, counting the bills, "I'm seeing around 800 grand."

"A remainder from today's purchase, I reckon."

The sudden shift in conversation had the Pig's face turn white. "T-That's…"

"Lying to me will _not _do you any better at this point, Black."

"H-He… He gave it to me a-as part of a deal…"

Outrageous. _Completely, utterly outrageous._ A huge part of me was compelled to smash this man's skull and render it into tiny, fragile pieces before using the rest of his corpse to wipe the blood off the floor. But, then I wasn't quite sure at this point whether my anger was directed to this fat pig in front of me or that filthy, bloody bastard who _dared _to attach a meager price on the life of _my _son. In fact, just to appease my anger, I had in my right mind to do exactly what I had so imagined.

"Lord Newgate, sir, look at this. I found it inside his wallet." Snapping me away from my morbid contemplations, Juzo passed me a small note written in a messy script. I took this and read the one and only line that was scribbled in the message.

_Here is your initial deposit. The rest will be given once you've done the job. _

At the very end of the note, a red ink seal had been stamped, molding the image of a coat of arms that I was all too familiar with. The Allerick-Marcellino coat of arms—the symbol of my noble house—was prominent for its two twin lions that were back-to-back against each other, positioned in front of a decorated shield and two crossed spears. But, the image before me right now was a desecration of my ancestry's symbol. I could see the lions facing each other, as if in violent combat, and their heads bore only skulls instead of thick, rich manes.

Krieg_. _There was no mistaking it. This coat-of-arms was the sign of his rebellion.

"What can you tell me about this seal?" I asked out loud.

"I-I don't know…"

"It seems that this 'Pearl' figure is under the orders of someone else. I'll ask you _one more time_—do you happen to know who?"

"No." The only real truth he has spoken thus far. How unfortunate.

As expected, Marco arrived at just the exact moment. The doors of the warehouse creaked open, and he entered, followed by several men who were bringing in canisters by the bulk. His expression was unreadable as always, sparing an impassive glance towards Black before acknowledging me with a small nod.

"Your orders, Lord Newgate."

The smell of petroleum filled my nostrils, and it continued to grow stronger with each added canister. "How many have you brought?" I asked.

"Fifty, as you requested."

"Excellent." Slowly, I rose from my seat. Juzo handed me the wallet, and I pocketed this before turning to its previous owner. "Our business is done, Black. The money will be enough to settle things. I'm only asking you now to point to me the man who shot Vista Florante."

"H-Him!" He cocked his head towards one of the gagged men in the corner—one of the few who have already regained consciousness and whose muffled screams argued in an angry protest.

Whether it was a lie or not, I couldn't care less at this point. "Izumi."

No other words were needed. She must have read my mind because as soon as I gave her the silent permission, she grabbed one canister and treaded towards the accused man. She spoke to him—her soft, indistinguishable words enough to render the man's face pallid—and she opened the canister lid before drenching the man with its pungent liquid contents. Then, Izumi proceeded to the do the same to Black, and I passed Marco my cigar lighter. He gave it a small click, producing a lick of orange flame.

"W-Wait…!" Black choked, spitting out gasoline in between, "What are you—"

"Please. Don't take it personally. A message needs to be sent to the other _pigs_ who'd dare to pull off stupidity on the levels that you have managed to accomplish tonight. I'm also saving others the trouble of finding your incinerated bodies once the flames have been put out."

"You said the money settled things…!"

"Yes, and that included your original debt on top of partial payment for my gardener's operation and for car insurance since you happened to have burnt my other car. You, however, have forgotten to pay interest, and I'll have Marco take charge of that. Good night to you, Mr. Black. I wasn't quite pleased by your recent disservice." Even after Juzo and Izumi shut the doors, and as I kept walking further away from the warehouse, I could still hear him cursing and swearing at me unintelligibly.

_Good riddance_. It wasn't like the pig was of any use to me other than squandering the money I'd lend him on alcohol, women and gambling. If anything, Krieg just did me the favor of providing enough reason to dispose of that trash.

"Izumi, I hope you took the necessary precautions," I said as we approached my BMW. The men stationed as guards around the vehicle acknowledged me with their bows.

"Of course, Lord Newgate," she nodded, "I took the plate number of the car Ace and Vista took before the police arrived to scan for evidence."

"Well done. We don't want any other complications. You arrived here on car, didn't you? Once Marco is through, head back to the manor with him. Juzo, please handle the wheel this time. Doma, how is he?"

One of the men, Doma, opened the door to the front seat. "Still unconscious, sir, but he stirs on occasion. He's got a nasty head bruise, and sometimes, he complains about it in the middle of his sleep."

After taking my seat, I glanced at the back to see Ace who remained lying down in deep sleep. Just as Doma mentioned, an ugly black-and-blue mark marred the side his forehead, the result of a painful blow that I hoped would not result to either a concussion or some form of amnesia. God forbid, otherwise I'd ask Marco to prolong Black's suffering. At the very least, Ace's bangs were long enough to partially cover it. All that was needed now was a good foundation to disguise it before he heads to school tomorrow. Assuming nothing serious has been contracted.

Izumi was quick to notice the injury as well, and she brought out her phone to begin dialing. "I'll tell Haruta to prepare him some pain relievers that he can take in case he wakes up. An ice pack, too," she said, "Juzo, make sure that Ace is taken to his room so he could rest properly."

"Right," Juzo said while taking the driver's seat, "Bring Ace home and let him rest, got it."

"And, _please_—drive _carefully_. This isn't 'The Fast and The Furious,' and you are _not _Vin Diesel. No road rage, no racing, no going over speed limits, and no causing civilian or officer casualties just because of said road rage. With or without a gun." Ah. So, was _that _what Marco and Izumi were stressing over about a month ago? I knew something happened, and I just left it to them to handle the problem, but I don't recall being informed about this.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault—"

"What percentage _wasn't_ your fault?" she asked without pause.

"I'd say 95%. The guy was a douche."

"That's just bias."

"No, that's statistical fact."

"Just drive carefully." On a better occasion, I might ask Juzo to relay to me what happened that time. Something to humor me with, I suppose.

In fairness to Juzo, though, he could be a responsible driver. He obeyed traffic lights, drove at moderate speed, and did as Izumi told him to—and _not _to—do. His only flaw lay in the fact that he'd fire a set of curses whenever someone tries to overtake him. Hence, road rage. He probably thought that I couldn't hear him. But, no matter. By the time we were midway back home, there were no road incidents—to our good fortune—and I was starting to hear the sound of soft groaning from the backseat.

"We're almost home, Ace," I greeted him casually.

I received another groan from him as Ace sluggishly tried to get up. He managed to pull himself in a slouching position against his seat. "Dad?" Ah, good. No signs of amnesia as far as I could tell.

"I'm glad to see that you're okay. It's been quite a day, especially for you."

"What happened?"

"We'll save the story for another occasion. For now, let's just head home."

From the front mirror, I could see Ace's brows furrow in a serious expression, pausing for a moment until his eyes widened. "W-Wait! Demalo Black, that traitor, he tried to—"

"Not to worry. He has been take care of."

"What about Vista? He—damn it, he—"

"He will be fine. Izumi will see to it."

His shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. That piece of news seemed to have calmed him, if only a little. "And, what about the debt?"

"Oh, it's been collected, but that shouldn't be the issue here. I ought to limit my assignments for you."

Most likely from the exhaustion, Ace's eyes drooped into a close again as he laid down on his seat. "It's not the first time someone tried to kidnap me," he retorted, although I brushed this aside. His argument lacked its usual fire.

"Yes, it isn't, but I'd rather not take any chances."

Ace said nothing more, and without looking, I could tell that he has drifted off into sleep again. Narcoleptic or not, how easy is it for him to sleep just like that? On the contrary, I felt unnaturally restless, my son's words still remaining as soft echoes that were reverberating in my ears.

Yes, Ace was right. This wasn't the first time that I almost lost him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Except, tonight was the closes that I was to losing him, and once more, I felt that strong desire that has been burning within me ever since that day.

On that day, I silently swore to myself that I'd raise him. Protect him. Treat him as my own. Give him a home when no one else would. Become the father that he never had. I remembered it all, as if eleven years haven't passed, and it was only just yesterday that I found him in the lowest of all places.

* * *

><p><em>In hindsight, I suppose I came here on a whim. Nothing more, nothing less. The client—Kyros, was it?—had absolutely nothing to offer me. Nothing of great value, at least. He had neither the money nor the assets, and he wasn't fit to be in any kind of service that I would require as compensation. Not with that prosthetic leg of his. All he had was an acquaintance who referred him to me, a little girl waiting for him to come back home with her mother, and dignity which he had discarded when he dropped to his knees in pleading. I told him—"Do not waste my time. With what you have, you cannot possibly repay me for my services, and I do not intend to start performing charity now. If you want your wife back, head to the proper authorities. This is the job of the police." <em>

_And yet, despite everything that had been said, I accepted the job, but not out of pity. The moment the name, "Marshall Teach," entered the conversation, I waived all expenses down to the last cent. A good excuse to run after Teach was a reward in itself. Consider it "unfinished business" to settle. The enemy of my son is my enemy, I'd say. _

_I remembered Thatch, back when he was still alive. Cheerful, kind and laid-back Thatch. Compassionate, just like his mother, and with a heart bigger than mine. Unlike me, he was an idealist—always seeing the best in people while forgiving their faults, except that boy __**never **__had a good opinion on Teach. He hated him with a burning sort of passion that blazed just by the mere mention of his name, and I reckon it had to do with Teach's line of business. Of all activities that we were involved with—directly and indirectly—Thatch hated prostitution and trafficking. The two were synonymous to him. Even more, he hated having to deal with the cognitive dissonance of knowing that we indirectly gain profits from the brothels, and I always knew that the moment I stepped down from my position as Head of the Newgate Family and the Allerick-Marcellino House, he would be the one to abolish our ties with the owners. It could be a personal issue, considering a certain someone. _

_It was as if it was still sundown, what with the sky being so bright at this hour. The fire crackled as one burning piece of debris after another collapsed on the ground, causing orange cinders to fly. Fire trucks have arrived, sirens blaring loudly as firemen prepared their hoses to extinguish the flames before they could reach the other buildings. I noticed other trucks that rushed past the scene, heading towards another fire incident within the area, no doubt. The growing audience of half-horrified, half-intrigued bystanders continued to look on, blocked from further entry by police officers who began an investigation. But, in all of this mess, Teach was nowhere to be found. _

_The man was smart, I'd give him that. Always has been. I suspected that he had his own sources to tell him about my business with Kyros, and that he thought burning his own brothel would be enough for us to lose track of him. Well, that remains to be seen. Teach will pay for his overconfidence. His informants as well. _

_To his credit, at least the man spared the women, otherwise all the more reason to run after him. I could see several officers interviewing some of the prostitutes while others were being brought to the station for further interrogation. It won't be long until they find out that Teach has been involved in trafficking abducted women from different parts of the globe. All the better to ruin him further. I already planned on having some of my sources drop incriminating evidence that would have the entire justice system turn against him. Soon, I won't be the only one that he'll have to deal with. _

_Hopefully, Thatch should be able to rest a little more peacefully now. He always did enjoy having the last laugh in any situation. I know for sure that Kyros will be pleased to have his wife back. I kept my end of the bargain, despite the unexpected turn of events. _

"_Marco, please go with the others and search for a Mrs. Scarlet Kyros," I said, opening the car door. _

_From the driver's seat, Marco regarded me with a questioning look. "Lord Newgate?" _

"_Not to worry about me," I waved, "I could do with a quick cigar." He nodded and then took a handgun from the glove compartment before passing it to me. _

_Of course. A means of self-defense would be highly necessary in this case, and I took this with words of gratitude. Marco was one of those intelligent men who would take care to arm himself when roaming around the inner streets of Impel Down on his own, and of all my men, he probably knew the area the most as well as how ugly of a sight it was. Impel Down was, to put it bluntly, the slums area of New Japan. It was the poorest sector in Grand Line City with the highest crime rate, the lowest population, the dirtiest of living conditions and the largest number of brothels and strip clubs overlooked by the city government. Practically anything goes there, and the only real law was "survival of the fittest."_

_The people themselves—save for a certain few such as Marco, of course—are the vilest sort of low lives, ranging from the city's largest circle of drug lords to pickpocket thieves who eventually turned into killers, all of them driven by poverty to their current recourse. There may have been a few ideas to restore the district, but they only remained up in the air. I mean, who in his or her right mind would invest in it? I certainly wouldn't. Supplying the drug lords with their stocks of marijuana on a regular basis would reap more benefits than a restoration project doomed to fail, and since there was no feasible solution in sight, the next best thing was to convert the problem into an advantage. Thus, I've established control over a large portion of Impel Down and its activities, and now, I have the most feared criminals of New Japan answer to me. Cold, hard pragmatism with an iron fist, above all else. _

_Besides, I find myself justified by the mere fact that this district was beyond saving. This alley itself was a clear sign of proof. The doors and windows of each building were boarded up to the extent that I wondered what the people here try to hide other than themselves. On the walls were tasteless forms of graffiti which have remained faded since the time I actually moved into Grand Line City from England, and the concrete path I was walking on desperately needed to be replaced, especially with all those bumps and cracks garnered from years of gradual erosion. Plus, I cannot even begin to describe the sheer unsanitariness of this place—between the cringe-worthy piles of garbage and the vermin crawling all over the place, only to escape in the darkest recesses. It's only a matter of time until I find a gigantic sewer rat digging among the trash. Exactly when was the last time the garbage collector came here? Never mind. Perish the thought. _

_I may have walked a little further than I intended to, only stopping when I saw that the path ahead of me led to a dead end where a steel fence towered several inches high, complete with heavily barbed wires on top and a lop-sided board where the words "Keep Out" were painted in angry red letters. Very well, then. There was less noise here compared to the main street where everyone was, and I was left on my own to enjoy a smoke. _

_Or at least I thought I was. _

_Someone was crying. No mistaking it. How many times have I heard sobbing noises from desperate clients who lower themselves to ask for such petty favors? They're all the same in essence. The only differences laid in the pitch, the volume and the amount of tears one is capable of shedding in front of me. From the voice, I could tell that this was a woman crying, and she must be behind that corner to my right, but I paid her no mind. It was none of my business, after all. _

_I searched my pockets for the cigar box, pulled out a stick and lit it between my lips. The bitter taste of the rolled up narcotics was there, and once again, I was consumed by my developing habit. In sum, I could tell that this was an excellent make. How considerate of my cousin, Jinbei, to send a sample over. Lately, he has made friends with some owners of a tobacco farm in China, and in his most recent letter, he wrote that the owners are very interested in becoming one of my suppliers for my developing tobacco firm. Of course, there may be issues with the Chinese government, but Jinbei knew his way around. He can handle the technical logistics for me. _

_And, speaking of my cousins, I ought to share these with Zeff. The man more than deserves it. Two years after his leg amputation, he's already completed his physical therapy and started his own restaurant. He handled everything—from the menu to the actual managing—with his only request being that I provide for him the finest quality of fish; an easy task since the opening of Fishman Industries, another project between myself and Jinbei in the ports of East Blue. So, I made my investments, and this joint effort resulted into our greatest business venture together with all the food critics raving, the feature articles being published and the large number of customers, including famous celebrities and politicians. In fact, just the other week, the Baratie received its first recognition award for "Best Start-Up 1998." I really should invite Zeff to tea… or would he prefer some wine? _

"_I'm so sorry…" The mourning woman was whispering now, "I'm so sorry…" But, there was no response, and the weeping continued. Dear Lord, the woman must be talking to herself now. Chances are that she's gone off her rocker. I wouldn't be surprised. I'd go mad if I had to live here. I lowered my cigar, breathing out a puff of smoke while the sobbing never ceased. If anything, it got even louder, and I knew that it wouldn't stop until __**someone **__decided to take pity. Blast, to think that my ears would be habituated to the sounds by now! _

_I dropped the cigar and crushed it with my leg before slowly making my approach. Terrible waste of a good cigar, but there was no point in trying to enjoy unless this woman would be sent on her way. Some pocket change should do the trick. Humph, now what is wrong with me? If this keeps up, I might as well engage in something as preposterous as philanthropy, then! Open up an orphanage or something ridiculous. I would never hear the end of it from my cousins, much less from my associates and those __**blasted**__ critics! "Newgate, opening up your conglomerate to charity now? How uncapitalist of you. Did your PR officers suggest incorporating social responsibility for better publicity?" Bah! The hypocrites! They're no better than the rubbish they spew out. _

_So, I turned on the corner and gazed down, and what I saw was a little less of a woman and more of a skeleton if those dead things were capable of shedding tears and bleeding profusely from the kidney. Someone must have stabbed her earlier, but with how frail she looked, she would have just died from whatever condition she had. She was bone-white and so skinny that her cheeks had sunken and her collarbone sickly protruded from beneath her sweat sheened skin. Perhaps, she may have been attractive once, but it was hard to tell with those bloodshot eyes, that cropped, unkempt hair, her no longer pert breasts and that tattered dress with a prominent low cut. Might have been one of Teach's prostitutes, wasted and reduced to nothing after whatever sort of Hell she's been through. Have I effectively killed this woman? I've been drawing my cigar while she's been drawing her last breath. _

_I treaded closer. Her gaze was lifeless, but she was alive. I could tell from the way her eyes rolled towards my feet. "God?" I heard her whisper. _

"_I am not the God of your Church, woman." _

_Slowly, she tilted her head, and she held her stare at me for a moment. "Sir Newgate…?" she breathed. _

_I nodded. "What is your name?" _

"_M-Makino…"_

"_Stay awake. I will call for an ambulance." _

_But, she shook her head. A tiny, resigned smile cracked on her white blemished lips, yet tears continued to flow. "I-If the wound d-doesn't kill me… the AIDS will." _

_Now, how could I respond to that? It was inevitable that this woman was about to die, and she would have died alone if I hadn't found her. I shifted slightly, feeling the heavy weight in my inner coat pocket, and then I remembered that I had a gun. I could end this for her now. I could put her out of her misery. Should I, then? To be brutally honest, it sounded like the most humane thing to do. _

_Makino coughed profusely, her hand above her wound as she slowly rolled her head to the side. "He's… right there…" I followed the direction of her gaze, and it was only then did I notice a pale, bruised arm that was sticking out from inside a rubbish bin. So tiny. That had to be a child in there. _

"_Your son?" _

"_N-No… Not mine… Poor boy… he lost so much… lost his home, his brother… I couldn't do anything for him… I-If only..." She choked on her own coughs, her hand finding my own, but lacking the strength, I had to hold hers instead. It was only then that I realized that I was on my knees for this one woman who I barely knew and whose time was almost up. "P-Please, Sir… g-give Ace… a home…" There were no more tears. She could only produce a small whimper and so I hushed her gently with words that I thought I'd never say again. _

"_It is alright. You can sleep now." Those were the same last words I spoke to my wife when she was on her own deathbed, and like her, Makino softly hummed in response. _

_Not too long after, the movement of her chest stopped, and her hand turned limp against mine. As a sign of respect, I gently positioned her hands above her chest and sealed her eyelids shut. At least, she would leave this world with dignity. _

_Now, for the boy. Ace, was it? After getting up on my knees, I made my way towards the trashcan and lifted up the heavy lid, hoping that unlike Makino, the boy was still alive. _

_He was, and for that, I already pitied him. _

_A little boy—bruised, mangled, and naked—has literally been thrown inside the trashcan, and he was so malnourished that I could practically count each of his ribs. Could probably even break them if I wanted to. What's worse? The boy was delirious. He looked at me with that empty gaze of his, only to reach out and grab onto something invisible in the air. His lips were moving, and it was like he was speaking to this unseen object, although not a single sound escaped him. I lifted him up, ignoring the moist, sticky fluids that were spread on his backside, and I cradled him in my arms carefully, his weight feather-light and his skin burning with fever. With how haggard his breathing was, I'd be breaking my unspoken promise to the dead woman over there if I didn't hurry. _

_Walking briskly, I took out my phone in one hand and dialed. "Marco." _

"_Lord Newgate?"_

"_Have they found Mrs. Kyros?" _

"_Yes, Sir. We've also contacted Mr. Kyros." _

_"Good. Now, have someone make an arrangement with the nearest funeral parlor. After that, meet me back in the car. We will head to Grand Line Hospital immediately."_

* * *

><p><em>It's been a little over two months, and still, he hasn't uttered a sound. One would think that he has forgotten how to speak, but I was told that matters such as this require a lot of patience and understanding—two things I generally lack, but I was willing to make exceptions. This was a delicate case, indeed. <em>

_Now, Ace isn't a feral child. That much has been made clear. He may not be able to read or write, but he understood simple English. Once, I asked him if he used to speak, and he actually nodded. Our conversations thereafter consisted of yes-or-no questions. I'd ask, and it was either he'd nod or shake his head, but there were those times when he wouldn't respond at all, and I wasn't quite sure whether it was because he didn't understand me or he just didn't want to answer. Dr. Jango attributed all of this to trauma. Usually muteness is a sign of social anxiety, but there has been some research that linked it to a history of child abuse. _

_Today was the 17__th__, the second session, and just like a week ago, the noon began with tiny raps on the door that carried a certain rhythm. Then, the door opened to reveal a tall, lanky, bearded man in his mid-forties whose graceful yet peculiar movements reminded me of dancing. Dear Lord, was he actually doing the moonwalk in my office den? Clearly a Michael Jackson fan. He took off that bizarre hat of his—large, pompous and navy blue, fit to be worn by a 17__th__ century admiral—and he hung this with his coat on the rack before coming towards me with his suitcase at hand. As always, his long, wiry gray hair that framed his pale, narrow face was wrapped in a ponytail, and those heavily tinted heart-shaped shades hung over the bridge of his crooked nose. Never have I seen him without them. Claims to work better while wearing those. _

_Yes, the man was clearly eccentric, but I wouldn't have hired him if he weren't competent. Dr. Jango is a renowned expert in psychiatry, the chair of the psychology department of the region's famous Jackson University, a genius in his own right and a miracle worker. I would know. I've seen him produce results myself. _

"_Good day to you, Dr. Jango. I see that you're as upbeat as always." I checked my pocket watch, noting that both hands had just overlapped at twelve. Very punctual, this man. _

_He sat down on the chair in front of my desk, legs crossed with the suitcase propped on his lap. "Spend a night in a dance club, Sir Newgate, and you won't be able to shake off the feeling. Had to check on Ace first before getting here." _

_"Did you now?" _

"_Of course! What good doctor wouldn't make his patient the priority? Only a bad doctor, that's who! Going back, he seems to be doing fine, but let me ask you now—how has Ace been doing this week?"_

"_Withdrawn, but I think I'm slowly getting to him. He actually lets me sit next to him now." A major improvement on its own. He wouldn't even let me come near him at first. Whenever I'd enter his room, I would find him curled up in a corner, staring at me as if I were the Bogeyman. Then, there's the number of nightly escape attempts to which he would have a mental break down whenever one of the servants caught him. _

"_Establishing trust is always the hardest part, but it will pay off eventually. No other complications this week? None since that incident?"_

"_None at all, thank goodness." Oh, yes. __**That **__incident. A complete and utter disaster of an incident that happened all in one night which, for a moment, made me believe that every effort to save the boy has gone to ruins._

_It started when I thought it would be better to transfer him to a different room, one with a lock from the outside. That was after his latest escape attempt which ended with Blamenco sporting a black-eye and several bite marks on Kingdew's and Juzo's arms with the latter convinced that he just caught rabies. Marco looked like he was already on the brink of his patience. Who knew that a child so emaciated could actually be that strong? I certainly didn't, and that just proved to me that Ace could be aggressive if he ever felt threatened. So, I had a new room prepared for him—one with no fragile objects that he could potentially hurt himself or others with—and every night before lights out, someone would lock the door to make sure that he wouldn't run away again. At first, I thought it was a smart idea. The nights became peaceful once more. Except every morning, whenever Izumi would come to give him breakfast, she would find Ace trembling in a corner, and no one could figure out why until __**it **__happened. _

_One night, a group of passing servants heard loud banging noises from behind his door, and one of them decided to check and see if he was alright. A harmless intention, and I shouldn't have faulted him for that, but it was a terrible call on his part. Something about their entry made Ace crack, and by the time I arrived, he already fainted after what I was told was "a panic episode." The morning after, I limited the number of people allowed in that room based on my observation that he responds better to women. Then, a few days later, I had to call Dr. Jango. Izumi, who I placed in charge of watching over him at night, came to my desk that morning and told me that the poor boy was actually suffering from night terrors. _

_I remembered the dying state that I found him in, and then I remembered the group of servants who startled Ace that night. They were all men. Somehow, I had a certain idea of what goes on in those nightmares of his. _

_Lunch was relatively slow, and that's only because the man kept ranting to me about where the current pop culture scene seems to be heading for about an hour's worth. I simply nodded at each passing moment with one ear that tried to listen while the other remained deaf. All for the sake of politeness, of course. The only time I actually cared to pay full attention was when we were on the way to Ace's room, and Dr. Jango ended up admitting that he was stalling me the whole time. _

"_Of course, this is part of a necessary process," he quickly explained, "I'm interested in trying a different method with Ace, and it's best that he's given an hour without any major disturbances." _

"_I take it that you sent Izumi away, then." _

"_The maid? Oh, yes, I did, although I can tell that she wasn't too pleased with my request," I noticed his barely concealed shiver, and I somewhat pitied the man who has just been subjected to the Head Maid's ire, "I have to say, though—that one would make a good mother. She clearly loves the child." _

"_Naturally," I cleared my throat before asking, "So, what are the chances that he'll be able to speak again?" _

"_Can't say for sure, as early as now," Dr. Jango said while walking, "It's always on a case-to-case basis. Some people do end up speaking normally again while others recover with some minor handicaps. You see, we psychiatrists and psychologists can give them different kinds of treatments, but it also depends on how well the patient can cooperate with us. You know that already, of course. Now, how old is Ace again?"_

"_Five? Six?" But, I could be overestimating. With his size, he could actually pass as a four year old. _

"_Very young, and still in his formative years. It's easier to treat trauma at early childhood compared to late childhood. There may still be hope. However, if it becomes too difficult, I may need to refer you to a colleague of mine who is a well-known speech therapist."_

"_Tell me something that I can be confident with, then." _

_We were already in front of Ace's room, and I noticed Dr. Jango stroking his beard lightly as he mused. "Well, based on what I see so far, I can tell you that he's not the worst case I've seen." _

_Yes, perhaps he isn't, and that's why I still have high hopes for the child's recovery. After all, I would hate to see things heading towards the worst possible direction and for the psychiatrist to invoke some "desperate measures" that I've already seen him perform once. _

"_Hello, Ace! Doing okay here?" Dr. Jango greeted cheerfully when we entered. I could hear Mozart's String Quarter No. 15 from the music player that the psychiatrist must have installed earlier, most likely for the sake of "free-flowing creativity" or whatnot. True enough, I could see piles of paper everywhere, mixed with jumbo-sized crayons which spilled from a large box that was decorated like a wooden treasure chest. Ace, who was sitting on the floor, was waving at us shyly, and I noticed that he had an arm furled around the white stuffed dog that I bought for him a couple of days ago. An excellent purchase, if I must say so myself. He seems to have taken a liking to it. _

"_These are very nice drawings, Ace. You're really good at this, aren't you? I like how you drew your dog." Dr. Jango commented while pointing at the large white scribbled figure with its two black dots for eyes and a pink tongue that stuck out. As if embarrassed, Ace's eyes strayed away while the man continued to collect the drawings. He became even more so as I ruffled his hair, causing him to turn a deep shade of red. _

_Now, a significantly large part of me was glad when I realized that Ace was being asked to draw instead. I remembered last week when Dr. Jango made him take a battery of intelligence tests which Ace performed abysmally in. Depressing sight indeed, and it wasn't as if the boy was mentally retarded. With the state of neglect that I found him in, I highly doubt that even took a step inside the local kindergarten. _

_Two small hands were pulling one of my own, and I looked down, noticing that Ace was waving at me in particular. He even held up his dog and made it repeat the same gesture. I chuckled, waving back and even petting the stuffed animal. Funny how one so tiny used to be so intimidated by my giant stature._

"_Very interesting drawings we have here. There seems to be a common theme with almost all of his drawings," I heard Dr. Jango remark as he shuffled through the drawings, even stopping to return to previous ones a couple of times, "I asked him to draw himself, but it seems that he did much more than that." He passed the papers to me when I asked for them, and after going through a few drawings, I could already see what Dr. Jango was referring to._

_Yes, Ace drew himself. Except, he was never quite alone in those drawings. _

_The lines and shapes were rough and messy, as expected of a child's yet to be refined skill. But, the shapes were evident, and I could make out two stick figures in each drawing, with messy mops of black hair on their heads. One had slightly longer hair than the other, and although the both of them were faceless, I could tell that the taller one was Ace. They were eating, sleeping, playing, walking, standing—but no matter what they were doing, two awkwardly bent lines representing their arms joined them together like they were holding hands. They were never apart from each other. _

"_An imaginary friend, perhaps?" _

_I shot Dr. Jango a look. "You're saying my child is schizophrenic?"_

"_Oh, no! Of course not," he pulled his arms in a calming gesture, "Not without a proper evidence, and I must tell you that I hate 'labeling.' It's the cause of the stigma between my patients and the rest of society. Although, it's not highly unusual for children his age to have one." _

_I spared Ace a glance, noticing that he wasn't paying attention to our conversation. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on his drawing, particularly at the smaller figure that he drew, and realization dawned upon me when I suddenly recalled Ms. Makino's last words. "That's not his imaginary friend, doctor." _

"_Who do you suppose?"_

"_I think that's his brother." I couldn't help but notice the abrupt fidget from Ace just by the mere mention of the word. _

_Dr. Jango shot me an incredulous look. "He has a brother, you say?"_

"_The woman who entrusted him to me mentioned that he had lost his brother."_

"_Well, now that is __**very **__important information we have here. If that really is his brother, then judging from these drawings, he is very attached to him. The questions now are who he is and whe—"_

"_Luuu…"_

_Dr. Jango and I both turned to the source of that sound, and we saw Ace continuing to regard his own drawing with a dazed expression. I could see his eyes turn glassy with tears slowly welling up on the corners. The sight was enough to move even the harshest of men towards pity. _

"_Luuuuuu…" His tiny voice struggled, sounding more like an unnaturally rough croak this time, raspy as if parched for months. Just when was the last time he spoke? "Luuuuuuu… F-F-Feeeeee…" _

_I didn't speak and neither did Dr. Jango. The boy just spoke, but I wonder if even realized it. His body remained shaking, and with the amount of desperation in his face, he slowly craned his head up towards the both of us with sleep deprived eyes that widened like how they would whenever he'd wake up from another nightmare. "W-W-Wh…Whe…Wheeeere?"_

_My knee felt heavy as I dropped to his level, placing my hands on his shoulders. For the first time, the roles were reversed, and I was silent to his own question. A part of me wanted to lie to him. Give him anything but the harsh truth. Not when he finally found his voice again. Not when he was quite possibly on the road to recovery. But, then I looked at Dr. Jango for help, and upon seeing him shake his head, I already knew what I had to say. _

_There was no place for lying. Ace was beginning to trust me, and that was something I would not dare to break, no matter how painful the truth was. _

"_Ace," he eyed me frantically, his gaze practically begging. I found myself pausing hesitantly because of this, but I schooled myself to confess. "Your brother isn't here. I don't know where he is. I only found you." _

_I spoke as gently as I could, and I didn't have to ask if he understood what I said. It was already obvious from the way he dropped his stuffed dog on the floor and finally burst into loud tears._

* * *

><p>"Breakfast, Ace. How are we feeling this morning?"<p>

I could heard the chair being dragged as well as a partial groan from Ace. "Still feels like I got ran over by a truck."

"Alright, what's your name? Original name and then adopted one."

"Portgas D. Ace. Renamed as 'Asch Edward Allerick-Marcellino Newgate the Second.'"

I hummed slightly in response, setting aside the newspaper for now. Across me, Ace yawned, and I noticed how the fringes of his hair were parted in such a way that it could mostly cover the bruise on his head. Izumi must have helped, judging from its tidiness. Meticulousness is out of Ace's character.

"And, my name?" Blame my paranoia. I was no doctor, but if there was such a thing as selective amnesia, I might as well check by asking.

As if he wanted to emphasize something, Ace drew one deep breath. "Sir Edward Allerick-Marcellino Newgate the Third. Sole direct descendant to the Most Noble House of Allerick-Marcellino, Head of the all-powerful Newgate Mafia Family and the Head of the Newgate Conglomerate which owns Whitebeard Corporations, the Charlotte Linlin Fashion Designer Line, Skypeia Malls, Fishman Industries, Galley-La Auto Company and the Baratie among many others."

"I see you added the titles, too. Good. Your long lost brother?"

"Monkey D. Luffy." He helped himself to some bangers and beans as a reward.

"Good. No amnesia regarding your brother, too. And, his name?" I gestured towards Marco who just entered with the tea tray.

Ace glanced at Marco for a moment, musing over the baked beans. "Hmmm, Pineapple Head, if I remember right."

"If you're talking about nicknames, I suppose you aren't wrong." Ace was sneering at this point. The expression on Marco's face spoke levels of displeasure. "No signs of amnesia. Excellent. I suppose you should be able to function in school today?"

"Yeah, I'm as _perfectly _functional as Whitney in any good day if that was enough to convince Izou that I'm fine."

I drank the tea that Marco passed me. "And, what exactly is a 'bad day' then?"

Ace snorted, rolling his eyes. "First day of her period." He would have said more, had Haruta not entered with an extra basket of bread. She shot him a very _cheerful _smile that mirrored her mentor's, causing his face to turn visibly pale.

I sighed, taking a crumpet from the basket and buttering it as Haruta and Marco excused themselves. The latter's expression was still sour. "Well, if you can pull off that amount of crude sarcasm, then I highly suggest that you hurry up with your meal and head to school."

There was a soft clatter of utensils as the food on his plate was now left forgotten. "I still need to go to Impel Down." The look on Ace's face was a serious one, and I gave him one of my own.

"You already know what my answer will be," I told him frankly.

"I still haven't even met with the person who could give me information about Luffy."

"Has he or she contacted you?"

"No," he shook his head, his expression grim, "Vista's the one in contact with him."

"Then, let us hope that Vista will come around. After last night, I don't see why you should _insist _on going back." Quietly, Ace nodded, although he took to staring at his half-eaten meal instead of touching it.

I broke the buttered crumpet into a smaller piece, eating it before wiping my fingers with the table napkin. The taste of tea afterwards complimented it. "Are you in shock from last night?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Look at me."

He did, his face vacant.

"Now, tell me what's on your shoulders. I know that you're bothered by something."

There was no use lying or getting around it. I could sense one, and Ace knew it. He eyed me for a moment before looking down again. "Can I go to Grand Line Hospital after school at least?" he asked in a feeble voice, talking to his plate instead of me, "It's partly my fault that Vista's in there in the first place."

I leaned back on my chair, tapping the arm rest. Ah, _that_. "You always do blame yourself for all the wrongs." He neither agreed nor disagreed, and I shook my head. "Ace, you know that's not true. What happened last night was caused by a complete _moron _who paid dearly for the one grave mistake of trying to kidnap you."

"He took the bullet when—"

"When he shouldn't have?" I cut in firmly, "It is his duty to protect you, but duty or not, he is one of the people here who has cared for you ever since. Now, if the situation was reversed, I suppose nothing would stop you from doing the same for him, whether he likes it or not."

"Funny. Izou said something similar. Complete with ear pinching."

"And, she's quite right," I approved, "You ought to listen to her more. She's like a mother to you."

His lips curved into a wry smile at my comment. "So, can I?"

I sighed, picking up the newspaper and browsing through the stock exchange. "I'll inform Marco to bring you there after school. But, just for an hour, alright? After that, I want you home."

"Thanks, Dad." I could hear the sound of utensils again, and behind the newspaper, I could tell that he started eating again.

More often than not, I didn't have to look at him directly to know whether he's smiling, frowning or perhaps even crying on the inside. I didn't have to think too hard to perceive his truths from his lies. I just happen to _know _these things. A second nature, I should say. I suppose that's what happens after living with the boy for so many years. That dying little boy in that trashcan is now my son in all but blood, but that technicality meant little to me. Who knew that as much as Ace needed me, I needed him? I saved him from death. He saved me from the loneliness of old age and empty days that would have come.

Sometimes, I wonder how things would have been if I hadn't found Ms. Makino that day. I shuddered to think of it. Ace would have died, no doubt, and there would be no one to shower her grave with flowers on special occasions. Ace never forgot about her. He always promises her that he'll find Luffy again.

Ah, that's right. Luffy, his younger brother. To this day, Ace continues to search for him by all means necessary—although, I often question the danger that he's willing to put himself in. He always had a "martyr complex." The first time I discovered it was when Zeff phoned me one afternoon because Ace was crying when Sanji somehow sprained his ankle after performing some football trick he saw on TV. In truth, Sanji, being the more confident one, insisted on doing it. Ace was merely watching for support.

Not to mention assignments. Clearly, Ace confuses the roles between bodyguard and employer more often than not. Gave me a heart attack when he took a stab on the hand for Haruta. He had to wear gloves for weeks.

If I really had it my way, then Ace wouldn't even be involved in all of this mafia family mess, but years of raising the boy taught me two things about him—that he's stubborn and that he _doesn't _give up once he sets his mind into something. So, when the truth spilled and he, along with Sanji, found out about the Family, I knew that I wouldn't be able to _truly_ prevent Ace from being my heir at such an early age. Well, at least he's only interested in the connections that could lead him to his brother and nothing more. I wouldn't have to expose him to the true nature of the Allerick-Marcellino lineage. Not until he's finally ready, but even then, I'd only do so in a gradual pace. Something I should have done with Thatch. _If only I did_.

For now, I just wanted him safe. Demalo Black would not be the last one to try. Many would be after him, and I have to protect him from them. I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe. Whatever higher power up there gave me one more chance, and the last thing I wanted was to lose my family again.

I flipped open my pocket watch, glancing at two pictures instead of the ticking clock. _Good morning, Charlotte. Good morning, Thatch. Splendid day today, isn't it? _Ah, if only they were still here.

Perhaps, Charlotte would have been the mother that Ace would have needed. If it weren't for the cancer, she would have loved to have another son to watch over.

Perhaps, Ace would have had that experience of having an older brother if Thatch were around. Ace would have loved him. Perhaps, little Luffy would, too, and I know that Thatch would have loved to have two little brothers to dote over.

And perhaps, Ace would be happier than he'd ever be if he could, by chance, finally see his brother again.

Well, if only a certain Mr. Monkey D. Garp had permitted such happiness for his own two grandsons before his untimely death which made the evening news and the obituaries a few months ago. A tragedy indeed, and even until now, I felt uncertain as I would ask myself this every night—

What should I do? Should Ace know about his grandfather?

And, just _where _is Luffy right now?

~*~ Omake ~*~

-phone rings-

Izou: Hello?

Whitney: Izou! Izou! I heard about what happened to Vista! I just wanted to call and see if he's doing fine.

Izou: Alright. Who are you and what have you done to my crazy, psycho best friend?

Whitney: Huh? Silly, I am your best friend!

Izou: Tell me something only the real Whitney would know.

Whitney: Well, I can tell you the size of my pineapple's—

Izou: Okay.

Whitney: Which is bigger than your boyfriend's—

Izou: _Okay. _That's fine. I'm convinced. Thank you. I won't even ask you how you got those information.

Whitney: So, how's Vista?

Izou: Oh, he just came from the operation, and it came out successful, thank goodness. He should be waking up anytime now.

Whitney: That's very good! I am so glad that he's okay!

Izou: I'm even more glad to hear that from _you_ of all people.

Whitney: -giggles- Well, you know… Love is hate, and hate is love~ You should be happier to know that I even sent him some sunflowers as a "Get Well Soon" gift, too!

Izou: Wow, Whitney. That's actually… very thoughtful of you.

Whitney: I know. –giggling-

Meanwhile…

Vista: -making choking sounds while his heart monitor is beating rapidly-

Doctor : He's hitting critical condition again! What happened?!

Nurse: I-I don't know, doctor! He just suddenly became like that the moment he woke up!

Vista: M-Mi… B-Bella… M-Mara… M-Mi f-floras…

Nurse: My God, he's getting delirious!

Doctor: Have the sedatives prepared! We need to send him back to the surgery unit!

Law: -just arrived, looking bored- That's Newgate's gardener, right?

Doctor: Yes, Mr. Trafalgar. Why do you ask?

Law: Why don't you get rid of those flowers first? It stinks, and it's _clearly _bad for the patient. –points at the burnt sunflowers next to Vista's bed-

Nurse: R-Right, Mr. Trafalgar!

Law: -shrugs, taking the burnt sunflowers now- You like sunflowers?

Nurse: Umm… I find them very pretty.

Law: -the "Evil Psychotic Sadistic Trafalgar Family Trademark Grin Which Spells Shit-You're-Screwed" appears- Too bad. I fucking _hate_ sunflowers. –makes it a point to crush the burnt sunflowers in front of Vista, to the confusion of the doctor and the nurse-

Haruta: -hears wailing from Vista's room and smiles like an evil little girl while walking away and texting- _Sestra, I sent him his sunflowers! Extra "sunny," like you asked! :)_

Whitney: -texts back- _Yay! Good girl. ^ ^_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em>**_I'll admit as early as now that Whitebeard won't have that much chapters as compared to other characters in this story, but if he does have one, I'll try to make sure that they're **very **important. :)) _

_So, basically, this is the better and more expanded version of his first chapter from the first version of this story. I also try to explore all sides of Whitebeard: as a father, as a mafia boss and, of course, as a business tycoon. So, this is pretty much the result of his character building. Of course, I'm not going to deny how morally ambiguous he can be at times. I mean, let's face it, he's a crime boss (but whatever because technically, pirates are supposed to be the bad guys, right? Haha!). But, I'd like to think it's this moral ambiguity that makes him more human, and if there's any true redeeming point that Whitebeard has, it's that he's a father and that he loves his sons. More of this love to come. Aww. _

_Okay, due to school stress at the moment, I'd like to announce that perhaps instead of a biweekly update, I'd like to ask for a **tri-weekly update**. This is so that I'd have more time to work on these chapters while also studying for medical school as well as also having a life (plus video games because you know, **video games**_). _Hope all of you will understand. Anyway, a huge majority of my chapters are long anyway, so it can be worth the wait (unless it's for a certain number of characters who I don't really care for... coughNamicough)._

_Anyway, until next time! Next chapter, we're heading back to Ace, so that should be a good one! :) Drop a review if you can! _


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